Dear Writing;

January 17, 2018
Dear writing,

I'm giving up on you.
I have to grow.
You take up my time,
You compel me to ignore life.

I'm supposed to have responsibilities.
Don't you get it?
I have to work
I have school
I have family
I have a million other things!

But it's always you.
This stupid useless hobby,
That I can't help but come back to.

So you have to go.

Because you're not healthy,
You're not practical,
You're a time killer.
A waste.

But don't you dare forget how much I loved you.
And whatever pieces of this reality,
This vision I've tricked myself into living,
Keep them far away.

Don't give them back.
I don't want it anymore.
I don't want you.
I don't want to feel this.

Like my family expects something from me
And no matter how hard I try I can't DO IT!
Because you're there like a damn demon!
Yet, for some reason,
you're my dearest love.


I'm giving up on you.
Because I have to.

If I don't...
Then I won't get anywhere that matters.
Not the places in my dreams.
But a place I can live.
With a job
A family
Cause that's how it works.

You can't live with people who aren't there!
You can't live with the souls in your head.
Even if you love them more.

There's no place for you.
Not in reality.

So I've given up on you.
Even if I die inside.

A Friend

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