My First Attempt

I’m tired of drawing, I suck at it.

I’m tired of being the child, tired of all the responsibilities being the oldest one comes with.

I’m tired of curfews that are broken anyway, so why even bother?

I’m tired of hiding my flaws so people don’t really know who I am but they think they do. They don’t.

I’m tired to the point of exhaustion that I can’t do what I really want to and it just about breaks my heart.

I’m tired of comparisons when there are none to make because seriously you can’t compare an apple to an orange except that they both taste really good.

I’m tired of the drama created between friends, if we all just bared it all there would be fewer problems.

I think this time I’ve learned my lessons, but I try to learn something new every day so I guess I haven’t really learned anything at all.

I’m going to start things over, be the person I started to be when I was five years old and didn’t know what a broken dream was.

I’ll be the person I always knew I was, no more lack of confidence and self doubt but right in your face “This is me, like it or leave it” attitude.

I don’t want to be tired anymore, no more long-winded sighs or longing looks at the empty porch outside.

I’m tired and self-loathing and pitiful but you can call me beautiful all you want because maybe it’ll finally start to make sense after a while.

I’m tired of writing, it’s worse than my drawing.


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