Vent

just thinking

as I lay in the soft, glowing yellow hue of the small Christmas tree on the top of my dresser

im thinking of all the ways I've ended up here

not here as in where my body currently rests

but in my head, in my heart and in my soul

too long spent waiting to finally be apart of someone's matching set

too much time spent wondering why the people I've lain with said I was boring

confused how i am so easily replaced, as if my presence in their memories is washed away with a flash of light and a new body to hold

what is my permanence, if not in the hearts and heads of those around me.

if I am so easily forgotten, why can I not accept that

I have an idea that there are some people who are
not meant to be socialized

as hard as we may try to, and desire to, we will
forever be pasted along the walls like canvas' in a

bleak museum

stared at, temporarily admired, and then forgotten
until the next time someone comes back to gaze at
our subtle colors

the yellow light makes my dark, small room feel like a cell

a cell I can escape from, but never truly abandon

i can change the scenery, but not the situation

though, I guess I can't complain too much

it took me my whole 18 years to figure out that I'm

not meant to be held, because some pieces are too

broken