Cold chicken fingers for dinner.
Screaming fights.
Fake smiles.
A half packed up bedroom.
Blank bulletin board and clothes folded on the floor.
"You are going to live with your father. It will be our last day together. Pack your bags. It will be like you never even lived here."
I swear to God I heard those words.
"Your brother is sleeping"
I heard those words too. And that was when I realized that I could never leave him.
But my bags are still half packed, along with my pictures and personal belongings.
I found two notes I wrote to myself over the summer while I was cleaning out my stuff.
I hid them well enough so that I didnt find them when I went to tear apart my past.
Everything is a mess. My life is more fucked up than it needs to be.
I daydream of leaving and starting over just to get through the day.
I cant trust anyone.
I have to tell myself that I will be okay. Because no one else will.
I cant even put my thoughts into words.
Because I think that maybe they will go away if I keep them in my head.
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