SomeTimes

When I hear a certain song or an artist, I think of a certain someone or something.  It takes me back to the memory I was given.  Sometimes good, sometimes bad. 

I lie awake in bed, thoughts racing, about what might have been or what could have been.  I imagine it always being fun and good and working out.  But then I realize it's just a thought, not reality.

I talk to myself to actually hear what I'm thinking or doing.  It helps me to get things off of my chest or simply make a decision.  I am my own best friend. 

I wish upon the stars that GOD has given me, not just the ones that shoot across the sky.  Because I don't ask for much, I don't expect much.

I want to scream but nothing comes out.  It's like my voice quit working or my mouth won't open.  But one day when I do get this scream out, watch out world...

I laugh at things that make me angry.  It's the only way to get over it.

I step out of the box in order to see all sides of it.  I've learned not all sides are pretty or equal or even connected.  It's kind of like my box is falling apart.  But I get the glue and put it back together before stepping back inside.

I talk too much, but it's never enough.