today, i woke up with that intense familiar feeling of lonesome. even after seven hours of a (somewhat) peaceful rest, i still felt jaded. i sat there on my bed for much longer than i can recall, staring up at the tiled ceiling and wondering why all my friends are missing—even though it was i who drove them away. i wondered why i sometimes find a strong sense of comfort in my sadness. i wondered why my relationship with my father isn’t normal like other people. i wondered why my kind of ‘depressed’ isn’t like other people’s kind of ‘depressed’. eventually, i stood up, rolled a joint, sat in front of my cracked open window and smoked away all of the unnecessary thoughts. i smoked away the pain, smoked away the sorrow. i smoked away all of the lingering negativity that invades my view on life.
the cycle repeats.