Teenage Veracity

i think i'm lost

Do you ever feel like you don't belong here? 

Here, like here, in this world, I don't know, but every time the world is bustling or in silence, I always stare blankly. And in blankness, I'm always searching for the place that I long to be. I can be an alien in human flesh. I don't know. But I know that I have the feeling that I need to be in that place right now. The problem is, I don't know where that place is.

My thoughts are different. I feel like no one will ever understand my thoughts. They, including you, always conform to the patterns of the world. I can understand them, but they can't understand me.

I don't know. I really don't know. All I knew was that I'm different and that I don't belong here.

A place is constantly calling me home. I always feel it. I felt the tranquility that dances around my heart even though I don't vividly picture the place in my mind. It's blurry. Distorted. But it has a sunrise and a hope. It is green. Fields maybe? All I depend on are my feelings.

To tell you honestly, it's lonely up here. It's very lonely. You can't tell anyone because, as I've said, they will never understand me. And even if they tried to understand you, they could never take you to the place you long to be. It's very lonely. I'm all alone, and I have no choice but to live forcefully every day. I'm happy to be alive. Read that again. I'm thankful that life chose to breathe into me. However, I think I'm misplaced.

Every day, everyone around me is doing their best to seize the present. Carpe Diem! Carpe Diem! I can't be one of them, for I'm mentally somewhere. I'm rooting for my mind to take me somewhere. But at the moment, we both realized that the road we're following is not taking us to the place my mind is suggesting; the disappointments weigh us down, and we can't do anything about it. Me and my mind, so is my mood. 

I hate it. It's like I'm letting the present wave goodbye without seizing it. Regrets are shaking their heads. We can't turn back the clock, you know. It's such a waste of time to always retreat to your own mind. But it's the thing that I keep doing. I can't stop. I can't stop because I still haven't found my home.

Is it the people? It must be the people. They are all the same. I can't even differentiate them. They all want the things that are right for them but are surely wrong for me. But I can blend. But I can't show them my colors. I'll freak them out. If I show them, it's not acceptable. It's uncommon. It's not understandable. I told you it was different. I'm different. No one will ever know because they can't understand. It's exhausting. And excruciating.

"Are you okay?" is a question they always ask me. And I know why they ask me this question a lot. Because a second ago, I had the loudest laugh, and a second after, I had the silent mouth that stretches for an hour or day. Then I laughed again. 

As I've said, I can blend. I can laugh genuinely. I can talk to you with sincerity. But the moment I turned quiet, it was me searching for the world in which I should be living with people who understood the rawness of my being. Because it's none of them. The people who feels like home are none of them. They are always full of egotistical intentions. Oh, I can feel it. I always feel deeply.

Is it my surroundings? Is it because the place that I'm currently in is not as pleasing as I thought it should be? It's all the same. From the colors to the forms to the vibe, they didn't meet half the standard of my aesthetics. 

The wind feels awful. The sun feels despair. The houses, the buildings, the land, the road, the mountains, the skies—everything is the same. Nothing special because it's all ugly. The vibrant colors make me feel monotone. All is dry. All this is making this place dreadful. All this is making me want to find the place where I belong to feel alive. It's exhausting waking up to this place all over again. Nothing is making me want to experience the day. Everything is ugly. It must be my surroundings.

Or is it me?

It must be me.

The world offers simplicity, and I'm the one who's making it complicated.

It must be me, then.

If I just stop searching for that place, I won't be messy. If I just accept within myself that that place never existed, this chapter won't have me. If I just surrender to finding that imaginary place that I want to be, I can let myself create a place here that I can call home.

It must be me.

Is it really me? If it's me, then why does the world make me feel like I don't belong here? If it's me, then why do the people make me feel like I'm not from here?

I don't belong here. I don't belong here. Every time I walk, I always want to switch my steps to a direction I don't know.

I've always been searching. My heart is telling me I don't belong here. I've always been searching. But searching for something that you haven't heard about just adds to your loneliness. It's lonely up here. Take me away. Away from this grim world. Take me with you.