I write,
I write about myself.
For what else should I write about?
I’m young; I don’t really know how the world works.
I’m not very social, only have one real friend.
And even then I may have lost her,
I don’t know how others feel, or think.
I don’t know much, but I do know myself.
I think this may be a rare thing,
for a person to know who they are,
why they are the way they are,
for whatever the reasons may be.
But I do,
I have a reason for every way I act.
At least I think I do.
I write, I write about what I do.

I write about my pain.
What I write may sound pathetic,
Stupid and small compared to your pain.
But I don’t know you,
I don’t feel your pain,
I feel my own.
And since I know nothing of anyone else’s pain,
I write, I write about my pain.

I don’t really know what this is.
It’s not a essay,
It’s not a poem,
It’s not a story,
I guess the closest thing would be these are my thoughts, and certain events that I’ve been having lately.
Given form in words

You may not want to read this,
You may just skip over this and never give it a second thought.
But I want anyone and everyone to know that this is me,
Not what I’d like to be
Not what I want to be,
These words are mine,
Right from my mind.
True and unmoving.
Doesn’t matter if you believe them,
Doesn’t make their truth any less.
I write, I write about my truth.

I’m leaving;
I’m leaving a place that I’ve spent 7 years of my life.
Almost all of that time was spent in unhappy moments.
Either caused by others, or by my own hand.
And I leave in an unhappy moment.

I realize I’m alone.

Alone with no parole.
I have possibly lost my only friend in this world.
I’ve always felt like I’m outside peering into the window, looking in at my family.
I could leave right now, and be forgotten in a week by everyone except maybe my family.
But they are under the illusion that I feel a connection to them.
I don’t.
I want to, I want to with every single instinct in my body,
But I don’t.
I do not think it, I know it.

****

Now how do I know I’m alone?

Came to me a couple days ago.
I was sitting in a park, drawing a plant,
The curves, the arches and the texture of the leaves.
I look up and I saw a woman reading to a kid.
Probably mother and son.
But that relation doesn’t matter.
It’s what I saw in there faces.

They were smiling,

Doesn’t sound special I know,
But I hadn’t noticed the feeling that seemed to come out of that.
Happiness, love, caring, and something more

A warmth,

Something that guaranteed that whatever happened in there lives.
They would still love each other,

They would fight,
But he would still count on her to make the monsters go away.
He would say he hates her
But she would still see the love in his eyes

Nothing would separate them,
Even when one does something to break them apart,
That warmth would still be there.

And at that moment, I could almost feel it
I could see it in there eyes and felt it coming off them in waves,
Like sitting next to a fire, you can feel its heat, almost touching it.
It looked like heaven.

Then I realized

I don’t have that,
I don’t have that warmth in me.
I’ve never felt it.
I can’t even imagine what it must feel like.
That emptiness is the worst thing I’ve ever felt.

And then came the blinding rage.

I wanted to scream

Why

Why is it that I have been denied one of the things every child has a right to.
To feel that warmth that I wanted so much.

I’ve never been that angry
Except once.

I don’t remember much from my past,
Only important things that stick
I remember I had trust once,
I don’t have it now, but I’m sure I remember having it once.
When I was young,

It feels like so long ago.
Though I’m young I’m old,
Pain ages you.

I had it once.
But it was taken away from me.
I know by who, but a name doesn’t matter
Just someone that I trusted and loved dearly.
And looked to that person for the warmth I saw between mother and son,
I didn’t know it then, But I wanted it and searched for it with anyone that might give it.
I was met with a hand across the face.
My trust was taken,
My love was taken,
All in that second.

Oh don’t think I blame that second for my pain now,
To have this much of an affect would take at least three years,
Three years of crying yourself to sleep,
Three years of being chased and yelled at
Three years of feeling alone.
Anymore than that and I might not have made it out.

But I did get out.

It took the second hand to send me packing.
But doesn’t mean I was okay,
No definitely not okay,
I think I was eleven then,
when I got out.

And then came the blinding rage.

I was so angry, I didn’t even know why,
I didn’t know how to deal with it,
So I dealt with it the only way I wasn’t allowed to during those three years.

I screamed

It didn’t matter if it was a taunt or a push
I screamed,
I screamed against the pain
I screamed at the pain
I screamed for all that had been done to me and more.
I screamed to fill the void the pain had left when it finally faded away.

I’m not screaming anymore.
I’m alone, why would I scream if no one is going to hear it.

*****

And that leads to this final painful moment,
I’m giving up,
Not on life,
Just the hope that one day feel that warmth I saw.

I don’t care anymore,
I don’t care if I ever have a friend,
I don’t care if anyone in this world gives me a second glance.
Doesn’t matter to me, because I don‘t matter to you.
I’m faceless to you,
I am no one to you, just another piece of space.

I know some say that I’m blaming everyone else for my problems.
Some will be sad, and say they tried,
Tried to connect with me, bring me out of the darkness
And they’re right, they did, they tried
but they can’t give me something that was never theirs to give.

One thing that still makes me laugh,
I’m happy,
I’m not happy about anything involving me,
I’m happy for all those people I see who have that warmth,
Especially for those who have it and give it back,
Those people I think will have the richest of lives

So I write, I write of myself

I know some would think I’m suicidal…

I’m not.

I will live this life.
I will not let this end me.
I have given up on caring,
But I will not be a coward and end my own existence
I will face the void of this world, staring at me with all its terrible pain and suffering
I will stand and stare right back
I will defy it.
I will defy you by not giving in, when you expect me to.
I will live.

I came to the world with everything;
Such is the world that takes away things precious to us.

A person took my trust and love,
This place took my hope,
Leaving me with only rage, hate and sadness
But these I leave with you, I give them to you,
I have no use for them anymore,

I’ll leave with nothing,
And I’ll live.

****

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