the miserable life of a miserable teenager

conversations



Too tiring, too useless. I don’t talk as much as I used to.

The big joke was I never knew how to shut up.

Maybe that’s why I can’t even muster the courage to speak these days?

Or maybe it’s the fact I have nothing to say?

What am I supposed to walk around repeating the same garbage? No, they tune out to that.

If I said something with meaning, what would you do?

Applaud me, save my life, or tell me I’m the greatest person to have ever lived? Okay, then what?

I go home and cry alone in my bed.

Because no matter what you say, you have to say more.

Elaborate. Explain your answer.

My mind’s too full to spill that much, if I release the dam, all the water gets out. RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

Stick with your bucket and you’ll be fine.


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