My memories are being reshuffled, all that's left is grey.
Was it a good childhood, were they good friendships? Did I enjoy
the life I lived? At the time, was I happy? Content at least?
Surely I was happy at some point. I can't have lived my whole
life without colour. But when I look back...I keep looking back.
All that's left is grey. Small flashes that I thought I could
forget by now, some are revisited as I try to rest. They
resurface and before I can wish it away a tear has already sunken
into my pillow. Makes me wonder if everyone lives like this. If
my tears were always this salty. If I was just supposed to keep
living like this. I keep telling myself one day at a time. One of
these days it'll get better. Each day breaks me in a new way,
but it just has to get better. God is fair. If it wasn't for
that then I couldn't breathe let alone sigh a minute