18th of August

Today is the first day of school. I write this at 1:30 am. 

I have friends and I am glad that I do, not many but I'm happy with what I have. I dyed my hair but it isn't the best. Dysphoria kicks my ass but I start to like how I look. Though sometimes I don't recognize myself in the mirror.

Today is the 18th of August, My memory is trash and all I have is ash from the cigarettes I have smoked. My nails look of mold and my eyes feel old as they try to close on me. The pain holds me down yet I bear no crown only the memories that retain. I look outside and inside my mind I only wish for rain. Some days I feel as if I am not real or if I am watching memories, all I can think is that I sink into the ground six feet down. Today is the 18th of August and I question if I still live. I do not feel real nor do I feel alive. When I close my eyes they wish for me to sleep but I cannot compete with under four hours of sleep, so I write and write and write.

I wish to practice poetry in my spare time, perhaps it can help with my memory. Unlikely but an interesting idea.