The girl in the room next to mine, cries often. Its horrible.
I can hear her fighting to breathe through her tears
She stops for a while then starts again
You would think they are torturing her
I don’t wonder why anymore,
I don’t feel anything but discomfort
just wishing she would stop for once
I am no longer the girl that wants to save people
I’ve learned to not take on anyone else’s battles

On a good day,
I am waiting to get back to my pre-adolescent self.
waiting to go back to being 8, when it was all laughter
when I wasn’t bitter and resentful towards anyone or anything
back to trusting, just trusting
back to when people were still just people
and not things with the potential to cause harm to me.

there is a lot of freedom in being grown,
in not having to say where you are going or with who
or what time you plan to come back home
but there is also a sad realization that breaks you in pieces
there is also a lot that gets lost when you start reasoning
growing up is not the worst tragedy
losing your innocence is

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