I sit with them,
yet I feel cornered,
their laughter a distant echo
as my mind races,
a thousand miles per hour.
"Perhaps they don't like me,"
I whisper to myself,
their smiles fleeting,
my presence unnoticed,
a shadow in their light.
I try to blame these thoughts
on my anxiety,
a cruel companion,
but deep down,
the truth stings sharper.
Why do they bother to sit with me,
when I'm the least liked,
the outlier in their circle,
an invisible thread
in their woven bond?
Their words flow past me,
a river I cannot touch,
and I wonder if they would notice,
if I simply disappeared,
a ghost among the living.
I sit with them,
yet I'm alone,
cornered by my doubts,
a silent witness
to a friendship that isn't mine.
YOU ARE READING
Trapped in my own head
PoetryShe is an outcast. She finds it easier to express what she feels in the form of writing. Whether it is poems, letters or long texts. These are poems that she writes trying to describe how it feels to live with certain mental health issues, in a worl...
