This writing has had no spell check. No moments to change anything.
Just the raw and painful truth that is my life.
Any word that are spelt wrong, please feel free to think of what i meant or what you believe the correct word is.
Dyslexia is a bicth. Anyway;
Why am i me

What happened to result in this mess of a person

what if conceived a day later

what if i was born in septmber

what if my parents brought the house in redhill

what if i wasn’t dropped on my head

what if i didn’t have this illness

where would i be if i had never got sick
would of i managed in the police
or even before that would of i got into college
maybe i went to uni
maybe i did become a nurse in the army
i travel the world saving lives

but instead I’m ill
sitting on the rug in my living room
the flat i might not able to keep
wishing i was dead

what point did wanting to die become normal

I mean
i would of thought it and exnodled it was weird
i would of thought people don’t think like this
but i don’t remember
its now just part of my life

thinking about the raitrack
thinking about the rope around my neck
thinking about a knife in my thigh

But that is not an opposition

2 thoughts on “Why.

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