Some days I sit in my room and watch people’s lives out my bedroom window.
I wish I could leave my room and pretend it was all okay.
I wish I could leave and never look back.
I wish I could start a new life, but then I realize,
What would my friends do without me?
Why must I be so caring and compassionate?
Isn’t that what broke me in the first place?
Isn’t that why I’m in pain?
Why is it so hard to get out of bed in the morning?
Why is it so hard to leave the comfort of my bed
When comfort is one of my biggest fears?
Because comfort isn’t always real.
Comfort can be a lie to use you then throw you to the curb.
Comfort is the guy you fall for that never really loved you.
Comfort is the man that seems so nice, then abuses you when you get too close.
Comfort is the jerk on the side of the road that catcalls you,
But looks so welcoming while doing so.
Comfort is the person you see as your best friend, that you tell all your secrets to,
Then goes and talks bad about you to their friends.
The comfort of my bed asks me everyday,
“Why would you ever want to leave?”