Poetry

Idk lol

Have you ever sat with your friends and realized how hard you're trying to fit in? Whether it's how you move your legs the right way or how you just speak in general. It feels like you can read everyone's mind. The one to your left dislikes you completely. The girl to your right can't stand you being there. The one directly in front of you doesn't know why you're there in the first place. Even if they all know you, even if they are the closest things to you. What's the fun in being different? What's the fun in not feeling like you belong anywhere. One friend to the next to the next. They all have their flaws you can count on to disappoint you. They all have their perfections that makes you wish you could do the same. I hate to be cheesy but I have a dream of someone above that, someone made for you. I could lie to you and tell you I'm happy right now. When I'm with the people I enjoy the most, I can't help but be doubtful. I can't help but be insecure, vulnerable. How can I open to myself up to anyone like that? These are the very questions I ask myself everyday. I can't tell if it's me just being unhappy or the people around me making me unhappy. I have vision, the slightest glimpse. Of a real darkness, a picture. With odd creatures in odd black houses covered in unhappiness. They paint themselves in their sorrow. It's not something deep it's just something I need to know more about. It's takes over my brain, makes me wander when I shouldn't need to. It's like every night is the same night and every day is the same day. A repetitive hell running around in my small mind. Of course, it needs its breaks I mean we all get out of breath. But this one, this one theirs something not right about it. When I explain it to other people I feel like they're completely lost. Like I'm the only one who really knows even when I don't. It could just be the after effect of childhood trauma. But there's so many things it COULD be. It could be a dream or fantasy that I just can't understand yet. That's what makes it so confusing, unexplainable. I feel to confident in my writing yet not confident enough. Makes me wonder, what will ever be enough? It's ongoing and never stopping. My fingers are moving but my mind is moving faster. It feels like the adrenaline of running away or stealing. Or that moment right before you zoom down on a rollercoaster you know you're too scared to go on. It feels like your first love and hate at the same time. It feels like dancing till your literal body's on fire. Who knows