I'm not myself,
or at least,
I'm not who I used to be.
I used to be proud of that,
I used to be proud of myself for changing,
but now...
I don't know what to feel.
I just shove everything down, down, down,
until I can't feel anything.
It works, doesn't it?
Well, no.
I'm not myself,
but for once,
I miss the person I was.
I'm quiet, I know it,
I don't always share my feelings,
but now it all feels worse,
closed in, claustrophobic.
I'm trapped in my own body,
my own awkward, skinny, imperfect body
with my loud, angry thoughts
and a heart that keeps pumping poison through my veins.
My mouth is so dry that no words will come out even if I wanted them to.
I am trapped here.
I feel like a hermit,
hardly ever leaving the house except when I have to,
and I tell myself I like it
but I still feel a twinge of sadness when I think about other people
and their plans.
Some people tell me to make plans,
but I'm always too tired
or too scared.
I don't get upset about losing my phone anymore,
and it took me a long time to figure out why.
My phone is important, it has all of my music, all of my phone numbers,
how could I not care anymore-
then it hit me.
I don't mind losing my phone anymore
because I hardly use it.
My phone doesn't buzz every few minutes.
I'm lucky if it buzzes once a day,
and even then it's almost always from a family member.
I stopped using it for so long
that everyone else has either given up
or they've forgotten me.
I don't stay up texting
because there's no one to talk to anyway.
I hate the people around me for ignoring me
but I hate myself more for shoving them away.
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Thoughts and Things
PoetryA thing. A thing in which I write some poetry. I've never really written much poetry, so... yeah. Exciting. It can get spooky sometimes. (By spooky, I mean that it can get dark. Trigger warning in advance, just in case.) Tread lightly. I'm obviously...