I have to accept the things that I can’t change, I struggle because everyday frustrations grow tenfold. For now it seems like it’s getting the best of me, But I will never regain my memory.
I’d rather not think about it, and the irony is that I can’t. I never want to be sixteen again.
I will never have peace of mind, Because my mind will always be in pieces. Picking them up would be a waste, Who searches for a time when they were unhappy?