or when you've been feeling too much.
i was reluctant to get off the toilet in the waffle house bathroom. my head ached, my legs were worn, and i just wanted to go home.
from receiving a response from her, to being aggravated by my siblings, to just wanting to sit down and write, i was done with the endeavor by 4 pm.
parts of me wanted to become the girl who shouted again, because shouting always felt better than staying quiet. shout and everyone will hear and hopefully understand your rambunctious thoughts. whisper and no one will.
dying phone, hurting head, harrowed heart.
too much, too much.
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
