mid night poetry( part 1)

i'm not............

I’m not normal.

I think strange things,

say strange things,

do strange things,

like strange things...

I don’t know why.

I’m eccentric, weird even.

Maybe I spend too much time in my head.

I’m not a freak.

I feel things others feel,

need things others need,

warmth,

friendship,

love,

closeness, human contact,

the occasional pat on the back,

a real hug, 

a tight, tight hug...

Maybe I feel a little differently from everyone else,

but then again,

who doesn’t?

And if you cut me,

do I not bleed?

I’m not all that sociable.

I’m awkward around new people,

or people I don’t know all that well,

and sometimes even around friends.

I sit there, not knowing

what to say,

where to look,

how much of myself to present

and what.

And then I go quiet.

I sink into myself.

Look nowhere.

Sometimes I say just anything,

just to take part,

just to be noticed.

Sometimes I disappear.

I’m not a recluse.

I like to go out,

go somewhere,

meet people,

see friends,

have a laugh with people I love,

meet new people,

or people I don’t know that well,

and know them

just that little bit better.

I go out of myself,

open myself up,

invite people in,

and enjoy

good company.

I’m not invulnerable.

Sometimes, it hurts.

Just hurts.

And I suffer,

and I bleed,

and I scream

for it all to go away.

And I need time, then,

to heal,

and a healer,

even if it is just me...

I’m not fragile.

Tell me the truth, I can take it.

I may crack.

I may chip.

I will not break,

I will not break,

I WILL NOT break.

The cracks will mend,

the chips will grow back into place,

or be replaced with new pieces,

and I will go on,

and leave the hurt behind.

I am not smart.

Sometimes I say stupid things,

do hasty things,

hurt myself and others...

And then I hate myself,

because I’m not 

who I want to be,

because I want to be

better than that.

And then,

after a while,

I do it again...

I’m not an idiot.

I’m not insensitive,

not blind.

Sometimes I can feel

when something is amiss

when someone hurts,

because of life,

of others,

of me...

Sometimes

I know what to say,

to at least try to make it better,

more bearable,

less bleak,

even if all I can do is to express

my support

my affection

my love...

And I hope that it helps

to heal,

to make others better,

because my friends are worth

more than gold

than anything

to me...

I’m not perfect.

I make mistakes.

Enough of them.

Maybe even more

than my share.

But I try my best

to do right

by those I love

and those I don’t

and even those I hate.

And I hope that

in the end

I am a good guy.

Nothing more.