Feeling Poetic

Need an outlet. No one to talk to.
The smell of buses remind me of last summer. The time when I experienced true joy and tears. I miss you so much, you have no idea. Now you don't even know who I am anymore. I miss the way you made me feel. I miss that night. Not the one where I was stupid, the one before that. Where we were drunk and I felt truly alive and infinite, like I could do anything.
Once, the smell of buses excited me. Now, they only taste of bitterness.

Why does everything have to go wrong all at once? I can't really handle juggling more than 3 problems, ya know. I climb up and fall down, not sure of my destination. I want to go forward-I know that for sure.

The sound of loneliness is a bit loud these days. If voices spoke I wouldn't notice the whirl of the air conditioner, the occasional laughter from the hallways, the misery of the situation.