The following is a poem I wrote regarding this past summer. It was a summer of confusion, sadness, and regret.
Nicotine High We dry pop cigarettes In my living room. Hoping- Wishing- Pleading- Even fucking bleeding That this won't end too soon. Talking nonsense- Baby gibberish Of conversations, Now lost. You buff the Black n Mild- Blow smoke in my face And say that you love me. But, you don't. I know. See, I don't think I loved you either. I wanted to believe I did- But I hid My true emotions Like Christmas presents, And unwrapping them whenever I needed to feel something. I know you are named after a spice- But that spice has turned sour Past the expiration date, You dissociate in an hour. Get me high- Because you "Fucking love drugs." And for some reason You couldn't have it with me Being sober. I used to be a good kid, Then I think about all the Things we did. I hate who I let you Turn me into. It's my fault, though. I let the oceans Of my tears, words, and blood Reach high tide And I sailed myself out to you. Doing things I never wanted to, Kicking people out of my life- Making up a new strife, Again slitting my wrists with a knife. I went crazy with you. And it's my fault, But now I am fixing myself, Separating myself from you, Doing what I have to In order to find myself again. Dry popping cigarettes And inhaling cancer. That is your life now, Not mine. -Alex
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About:The Student Wellness Collective is an all-inclusive organization that aims to create unity on campus and only focus on improvements. Archives
January 2019
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