the junk under my bed


These dusty walls keep me up at night, thinking about why I even come home. 
I'm stuck in bed with my head growing heavy on my pillow. 

I'm not sure what home is anymore.
It seems not more than a container of my memories. 

 

Meet The Author

Jackie G. 22. UCLA. Sociology. Koalas. Probably blogging about my feels, music, movies, fashion, art, and everything else in between.