My Twenty Poems

Nineteen: You Don't Know Me

You Don't Know Me
You. Yes, you.
You are a student with crippling depression, stress, anxiety, insomnia, and social awkwardness.

You are surrounded by people, yet lonely.
You are in need of embrace, yet hate touch.
You are wanted in more than one way, yet despise attachment.
You are you. Inside,
but not
Out.

Outside people know you as a decently happy person,
You got your times, but everyone does
You're normal in the sense that you are just another weirdo.
You are replaceable in some people's minds
and in others you are unforgettable
You are human despite what you say
You are happy and all smiles,
You can't be scary,
Right?

Outside you are happy and energetic,
You bounce around and are mature,
You are the perfect child,
A dream any parent would want.
Understanding and sweet and joyful and smart and obedient,
You don't push and you take care of younger children with ease
You are loved,
Right?

Outside you get through the pain,
You help your mother,
                 Unforgiving.
                 Ungrateful.
                 Hate-filled.
You get good grades,
                 Hardly.
You are loved immensely!
                 Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!
You are well taken care of,
                 …
You have a roof over your head,
         …
You have food on the table,
   …
You have clothes and toys and luxuries!
.
.
.
.
.
.
You.
Are.
Happy.
  Happy.
    Happy.
      Happy.
        Happy…
            HAPPY!

I am not happy.
I am not fine.
I am not okay.
I am not safe.
        From her,
        From him,
        From them,
        From me.

…From you...

I mustn't say a word for you shall
leave!
I mustn't say a word for you shall
  leave!
I mustn't say a word for you shall
   leave!
I mustn't say a word for you shall
    leave!
I mustn't say a word for you shall
     leave!
I mustn't say a word for you shall
      leave!
I mustn't say a word for you shall
       leave!
I mustn't say a word for you shall
        leave!

I am sick of depression being a joke.
I am sick of insomnia being a joke.
I am sick of anxiety being a joke.

I am sick of immaturity.
I am sick of "relatable".

I am sick of being sick.
I am tired of this.
     This.
         This.
Why do people find such serious topics so funny?
Why does it cause laughter?
Why do I feel the need to say my ten cents?

I HATE IT.

I hate the person people think I am.
I am not okay.
I am not stable.
I am not me.

You don't know me till you've known my stories.
You don't know me till you've seen my tears.
You don't know me till you've witnessed my true smile.
You don't know me till you've answered my unspoken wishes.
You don't know me till you've noticed my scars.
You don't know me.

I don't know me.

I hate how people think they do.
How they stick me to a label.
I am more than a label.
You are more than a label.
We are more than a label.

I am not in a "MOOD"
I am no "BOOMER"

I am Harmony.
I am beyond my years.
I am paranoid.
I am strange.
I am psychotic.
I am depressed.
I am lost in a sea of confusion.
I am drowning from the inside out from bottled up tears.

I am done with people my age.
I am done with stupidity.
I am done with immaturity with topics that need maturity.

I hate the people at my school.
I hate the uncontrollable stress I feel.
I hate the person who's done this to me.

I want karma.
I want the Rule of Three.
I want the law.
I want belief.

I am lacking in all.
I am unwilling to change as I don't truly want change.
I am in love with what I say I hate,
Not romantically or sexually.
But spiritually and personally.

You didn't know me.
Now,
Now you can say you do.