Likes to beat out of rhythm, the second one to give up on my fears, sometimes, I have to remember it not mine anymore, I gave to someone else, someone who could treat it better than me.
If I put my hand into it, I can still hear it beating, try it, can you hear it too, Visitor?
They gave me a broken instrument and hoped I could be normal with it, I can't change it and I never will, doomed to be forgetful and overthink my insecurities till my anxiety is too much.
Oh, I know I shouldn't treat my ADHD like it's the monster I made it out to be, but how can I see it as normal? I knew I was broken even from my earliest memories, and yet, I could only understand it a few years ago.
Breath the smoke and ashes from others, it gives a nostalgic feeling, it's my family, and their, now dead, smoking habits.
Oh, it's out of air again, how sad.
For my bad eating habits, even when I was a child, I ate a lot, it makes my anxiety go easy on me, but now, I don't eat anything, besides junkfood and mango flavored energetic drinks.
My favorite food is "File a Parmegiana", a Brazilian Italian-wannabe food
I still have more than I wanted to.
How can I close them?
Warm and bloodied, despite their weakness, they're the most useful part of my body, at least I can go back with their help, at least I can turn on my notebook and pretend there's nothing happening in the outside.
The barbwire is the reason the hand's warm, they make sure I'm still alive, always changing places so I can never feel used to it, sometime they make it impossible to get out of my bed, and I always end up losing track of time, frustrated at myself for doing nothing about it, sometimes it's unberable, sometimes it's like I'm used to it, they're unstable, just like me.
If I could, I would melt it, and maybe myself too, so I can stop having a reason to get up in the morning.
