the pillow of release - a depressed kid
Why can’t anyone see I am breaking? Somewhere nobody knows me, and nobody sees the huge bullet hole in me, like the one that took her life. I walk into the grocery store and grab some snacks, a couple of drinks, and walk to the cashier and slowly slid my hands inside my back pocket. It was the afternoon.
I walk back to my new room, it has a bed, a couch and a couple of tables here and there. It’s good enough. A bed and a couch, and all I want to do is melt onto the floor and sleep there. I build up the energy to walk to my bed and eat my pack of chips and grab my laptop and start reading something.
How much longer can I go without someone to care for me? Till the scar becomes more me than just a part of me?
The sun has set. And I scream and cry into my pillow. The one that was in the car when I drove away from the vending machine to somewhere.

















