Pandaccoon

Lol. From X years ago. I’ve been trying to do what’s right and look at where it got me. I should’ve just kept on playing.

While frantically looking, different thoughts ran in my mind.

I always know how to secure my things. Why was I so careless?

Why am I not good enough?

Why are my efforts not enough?

Why am I still here?

I found my wallet, but I still haven’t found myself.

I can’t help but cry.

Her: Hey what’s wrong?

Me: nothing

Her: why did you cry?

Me: nothing

Her: what were you thinking off when you cried?

Me: nothing… I need a hug.

——

It’s been a month (play The Script’s nothing here).

——

She’s always mad. Little things, big things.

My dad’s always mad too. Little things, big things.

Why are some people always mad? Perhaps it’s easier to be mad than to admit being hurt.

Why can’t I just do that? Because I don’t want to be like Dad that I’m ending up like Mom.