The Deepest Darkest Pit of My Brain

Original Text: Trying My Best by Anson Seabra

I hope you know that it’s not always happy in my head Cuz I walk around like my head’s in the clouds I know you think I’ve got it all figured out But I wish that you could see the pain that I’ve seen But I’m trying my best and every day, it’s so hard All of the time I’ve spent being not me And I don’t know I’m just a kid with their heart pouring out of their head Trying their best to be okay

The Puppeteer easily creeping into your mind without realization slithering and shifting warping your thoughts stealing your conscious mind as you get used without a care

The Library quietly slip out rushing downwards cool air presses on my face finally inside nice and warm now weaving through going around finding the exact thing i need curling up on the comfortable chair staying for hours closing at 10:00 i don&apos;t want to go back but i have to the cool chill has turned to numbing cold the good spirit i had earlier is gone i inch upwards dreading the moment i get back and here i am warmth floods my face it&apos;s nice, i guess.

Who am I? Don&apos;t ask me You can cheat off the next person Because I don&apos;t have the answer My inner subconscious doesn&apos;t even know How would I?

This test is really hard Especially this question Do you have the answer? I&apos;ll just skip this one

A tale of curiosity Is the only thing I&apos;m sure of Questions on the daily Asked and answered

Well, at least we have answers, right? Yeah, but the answers give us more questions. Harder questions.

Who am I? I&apos;m a questioning person Sceptical of everything. What to believe? Tales of sugarcoated fantasies of life with magic? I think things through Well, most of the time Speaking of time Travelling through that thing is a big no-no

But really, who am I, at my core? Really, who knows.

Frozen I see the beautiful view From the top of the mountain I can almost taste the cold air And I can barely smell the food I just ate I feel so cold I can barely breathe &quot;I&apos;m done&quot; I hear myself speak As though I&apos;m not in my own body &quot;Okay,&quot; they say, and we almost leave. &quot;One more,&quot; I hear them say, so I nod. &quot;I&apos;ll wait here.&quot; I fumble on my words. The numbing cold makes it hard to speak. I&apos;m all alone, the frozen bright snow surrounding me. I&apos;m all alone, the numbing cold around me. I&apos;m all alone, I think, as they blame me.

The pain as the words Dig, burrow, into my brain Why did you say that?

I am seeing red Someone is attacking me. Who? It is myself.

My name is Susan. &quot;Who are you?&quot; I have no clue. Susan? Sure, I guess.

Like the four seasons Constantly changing Because of the environment around me. Like the time Slowly changing and evolving Into something new. Like liquorice Strong and opinionated But sweet and caring At the core.

Life is an airport Different people come in all the time at different times Some leave before you and others leave with you There are highs and lows, Excitement and sorrow Sometimes you need to be patient Sometimes you&apos;re eager to leave And sometimes you&apos;re sad that you must

Hi! I&apos;m Susan. I like to write, read, and take pictures. Fun fact: every single photo in this ebook was taken by me. Linked here is a video about me, and my blog (check it out for posts about all of my projects!)

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