I normally only go into the caregiver forum, but I have always like to read poems or other things as well as sharing that kind of stuff, so here goes.
As I lay on my door room floor, the smell of sneakers and bad food fills my head. I stare up at the sealing, each mark on the off white paint made by another adolescent. It’s a nice day outside, but my window remains unopened. I have things on my mind. I wonder if my friends are enjoying the nice day. I feel like I can’t move. Like I have been paralyzed simply by thoughts and feelings. People fight over silly things, what movie to watch or what restaurant to go to. It’s not like that though. Its not like something I know, or something that can be told to be like a sure fact. He comes home at night just to fight, but not about a movie. 100 miles separates these conversations, and me but sometimes I feel like they are always around me. She won’t come home again, he says. Stop bothering he begs. Don’t waist your time.
Some say its easer being away but I don’t feel like it is. I feel like although it’s all 100 miles away its happening right here in my door room as I lay on the stained carpet while my friends chat about movies outside in the sun.
Posts: 416 | Location?: NY state | Registered: January 05, 2007
