Bad Days

I miss my curls.

I miss how the smell of a newly bought book could excite me for days. I miss how easy it was to get out of bed in the morning, like I’ve done thousands of times before. Now i have to hit the snooze button at least four times just so I can have the time to convince myself to get out bed-you’re going to be late for class- I just don’t care anymore. I can’t bring myself to get out of my bed, so please shut the phone off and go away.

I miss being excited, and caring about the things that mattered to me. Now I have to keep my mouth shut because who can understand this? That won’t say to pray it away, be patient, it’ll pass, why can’t you just be happy about the little things?

The little things are what becomes big things after I devour it alive, spitting out a monster that I never meant to create.

I feel like crying most of the time but even that takes too much energy.

I wish my grandpa was here. He’d just listen. And smile. And love me.

I wish the silence wasn’t so loud.


Originally published at

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