Why Am I Like This…? by Mary

March 18, 2017


Why Am I Like This…?


Why couldn’t I just… recognize when people didn’t want me around? When they only want me around because I, I help them through everything. I stop them from drugs and suicide, I’m there when they’re lonely, when they need a hand to hold through the dark.

And. It. Sucks.

Because it takes a piece of me. It takes a piece of my sanity, my happiness… me. It takes away my emotional stability and replaces it with… with… hysteria. Internal hysteria. Depression. Anger. Resentment.

I hate it.

I take a deep breath and stand, by feet hitting the cold wood floor, slowly padding my way to the coffee maker.

Keurig. God I love this thing. A push of a button and 30 seconds later and BAM, one singular cup of perfect Boston Blend Fuhggedaboutit dark coffee, with a hint of milk and an unhealthy amount of white sugar.

With black mug in hand, i sat in the little window nook and watched the waves hit the moonlit sand. The air inside my small apartment smelled like the salt on the beach. It was nice outside all day, and was still nice, and who would deny the beauty of this world for artificial air just to stay cool?

“Why am i like this…?” i whispered to myself, pulling my sweater sleeves over my petite hands to shield them from the heat of my coffee.


“Im in here, Aurora.”

This soft, light, mass hopped up onto my window seat and laid right on my lap, exposing my bare thighs to the moonlight.

I was just happy that tomorrow would be a new start for good things. A run from all the negativity in my life.