I sink in my bed deeper as the thoughts that overflow my state of mind continue to pile
I miss things that didn’t even happen, scenarios that I thought of so many times that I could actually think are real
My mind is like a never ending jamble of nonsense that never shuts up
Overwhelming continues to be an understatement
I wonder when I’ll think of myself as a real writer, or director, or daughter, or friend
I wonder when I’ll think of myself as a real person
I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt, “what more can you expect from a human”
But find it impossible to do the same for myself
Sometimes I think it’s because I’m allowing myself to slip so often
Too little in this big world with so many people that have too much to say
What makes me matter?
Some days I blow people off and lay in my bed
Other days I feel like I’m not even living for myself anymore
It took me awhile to realize that nothing is going to come around that makes me feel real
What makes me real is skipping class when I want to give up
Forgetting to call my mom for the second time that week
Taking out another $9,000 loan that I have no single idea how I’m going to pay off
Going to school to become something that I already am
What makes me real is feeling like I’m not