Poems In Paragraphs

Problems

The while world is full of problems. Your problems, other people's problems, all the problems of the world. And all I want to do is help people with their problems. And I try... but for some reason, the only thing I can do is make it worse. I dont have...real problems, I guess is a way of putting it. Nothing diagnosed, nothing serious going on, my problems aren't very serious. And then there are the people with all the problems, diagnosed, serious, unavoidable problems. That's who I try to help. There was a time when I could help. I put smiles on faces and made some days better...part of me got so focused on helping other people, I forgot myself... but I didn't notice, because I was making those days better and lives brighter. I was able to help people even if I was emptying myself out, and it felt great. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, I didn't help. Anything I'd say would just make things worse...helping people...helping you was the light of my life, and it drained me, now with that blinding light gone, and I only cause hurt, I realized how empty I was inside. I could feel it, but I'd still try to help...often making things worse...I tried everything, gave everything and it still wasn't enough, nothing I did could help you. It's not like I could relate to you, I didn't have any "real problems" and I came to believe that. Any little problem of mine I disregarded as unimportant, nothing compared to what other people, what you, went through. So I ignored my problems, told myself I was being over dramatic for feeling anything. I kept trying to help, I couldn't...and when I finally realize that, I will examine my own, pitiful problems...they hurt so bad...but I can't pay attention to them, they are nothing compared to what others, what you, go through, and this is my examination. My problems...my problems don't need help....they shouldn't need help...they don't have any help. If I try to tell anyone, even you, they and even you can always tell me that you have that problem back, or the same problem but worse...and I feel even worse for complaining in the first place...I'm going through nothing compared to them...and so I shove down my problems, they're not important...other's are...yours are...not my problems...they're eating me alive...but to release them with the emotion that they have now built up would seem unnecessarily extreme...so I push then down....and down...and down....they're not important, they drive me insane....they're not important....not...at...all...

None of this can be seen...for I smile and help...or I try to....and I keep on going like everything's alright...and I have no problems...because I don't...nothing important anyways, they're not important....so don't ask....I get it, what you're going through, I could never understand it at all, not even the slightest bit, I can't help, I don't know what it's like, do I...? Just because I don't have a "real problem" doesn't mean I'm not human, I still feel... but I could never believe that myself...why can I only believe what others say, why do I believe that their problems are more important than my problems...because they are...no I can't let that voice determine my thoughts...but it's the truth....no its not...are you sure? No. I'm not sure of anything...all I wanted was to help, and now I need help, but I could never admit that...because it's not real is it...not diagnosed...not a huge problem....so it's not real...then why can I feel it?

Lesson to learn, if you ever want to help anyone, help yourself, the only person that will take your problems seriously...