Scattered

Of course I’ve wanted to escape. Of course I spend days just trying to convince myself that there’s a greater good, but the reality is I’m pretty limp. I was going to end up back where I was. And I did! You see, I’m 15 year old Abby again: nights full of substances and never sleeping. But I actually never wanted to be 15-year-old-Abby again. Sure I miss running away from all my problems, adventuring every night to again run from all my problems. Choosing to have control rather than to conform. But control never means better! It makes you wreck your entire life, making you too tired to care for your face or depriving you of sleep.

Words won’t even go through my fingers anymore. I type and type but it’s actually a strain to use my brain, it’s a miracle I’m getting these words out at least.

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