LeCat127

This is a whole mood.

It's so strange to realize that you never do things you used to enjoy. I think maybe the best thing to do is just pick a time to try them out again; make time to see if you can still find joy in the things you like to do. And if not, well. Sleep helps. Finding people to talk to helps.
In the end I suppose it is what it is, eh?

I've had this problem before. Honestly I don't have any idea what the best course of action is when wanting to say something but being afraid of what will happen if you do, but this certainly captures the uncertainty of the situation.

Well, I think I get what you're saying here, at least in my own way. Good prose, by the way.

I really like the way this story begins. The first paragraph about tragedies has good rhetoric and I find it very interesting.

This poem tells a really interesting story. I especially like the way it begins, talking about secrets and hiding, and I love the lines "Are you not tired of not being able to be you? Is it because you think it's taboo?" Good work.