I've never been good at math.

Even my friends would tease me when I got an answer wrong.

"4?!" they would say incredulously.
"How did you get 4?"
"I don't know, I guess I didn't do it right."
"Nobody else got four, so you messed up a lot!"

I was good at other things though,
writing,
acting,
being funny and well liked.

People actively hung out with me and wanted to be friends with me.

But the moment I messed up they were on me,
hyenas circling their soon to be meal.

I think they were jealous.

I'm not stupid.

i seem like i am though.

my whole life, my parents have looked at me as a disappointment.
didn't join the sports team,
don't want to be a doctor,
can't do well in school,
born with a silver spoon up his ***,
never worked a day in his life,
a disappointment, and overall
a failure.

My parents tried to have kids before, but I was the first success.

They decided one was enough.

-

When I turned 5, I joined kindergarten.
Since I was the best reader and smartest kid in the class,
I got extra spelling words and more homework.

It was supposed to foster early developmental skills and
promote my genius.

Instead I only have memories of dad screaming at me at the top of his lungs because I couldn't spell two right.

"JOSHUA IT'S THE 3RD TIME! TWO NOT TOW!!" he yelled.

But how could I know any better?

-

every moment with them is a reminder of how they treated me

yet they act like they've been perfect.

mom, always working
dad, always screaming

since day one it's all been my fault

ruining their lives, or so they make it seem

i'm so tired

it's been 20 years now

and i just wish i could have my own **** life back.

Fresh, fleshed out
my feelings and emotions flushed, hushed, must
be on their way to make me better.

Fast, flashed bout
maybe I'm finally becoming who i want, flaunt, to
see on his way to make his life better.

I am not what I seem.

I am strong. And confidant, and a confidante to everyone's swan song
our groups used to get along, but now like a stolen watch the time has gone.

People often regard destruction as beautiful, a sort of chaotic beauty that prevails through violent actions.
If this is the case, I am, emotionally, the most beautiful being to walk this earth.

I am attractive. I am smart. I am attractive. I am smart.
Repetition is often used to emphasize or persuade someone of something. It's been **** well long enough and I want to get out there.

I have too much **** in my life and I just want something to be relaxing and helpful in my life for ******* once.

Why can't I just have peace and friendship or companionship or ******* anything nice and calm and helpful for one ******* day?

Somedays i'm wasting away, others I'm feeling great
even with a lot on my plate I can satiate
my need
my want
a desire for attention and camaraderie or is it companionship

I'm afloat,
on a ship,
one that we all call loneliness

I'm gonna sink,
I can't swim,
this whole trip's just been hit or miss

and I don't know what I even want anymore
i've convinced myself of something
i don't know if i can afford
and
If i write more checks my *** can't cash
maybe i can finally be bold, or brash
relax,
they say just let it all happen

I don't know what i want or what's going to work out
but maybe in the future i can workout
and get my personality ****** out,
finally not an *******,
right i wish, like **** no

i'm never gonna be done but maybe i can finally get a *******
start on my life and do something for once
instead of wasting time and just sitting on my *** falling apart seam by seam like stacks of paper, reams and reams, i'll see you all in my dreams it seems like i'm done i'm finished, i've won, it's over, i'm gone, goodbye friends, lovers, enemies, goodbye.

My grandparents died when I was 12.
I didn't cry.
My dog, my best friend in the world, died when I was 13.
I didn't cry.
I tore my MCL when I was 14.
I didn't cry.
I  broke my foot when I was 16.
I didn't cry.
I thought I had my heart broken at 17.
I did not cry.

I'm alone now.
I can't stop the tears.

It's 4am and I'm laying awake half naked
worried about money and life, but that's
nothing new.
What the **** am I doing with my life and where
is the next step of the equation?

It's just like math,
all the tools are there right in front of me,
but I just don't understand and I'm too afraid to ask
how to proceed.


Emotionally, I'm a wreck.
Socially, I'm a wreck.
Mentally, I'm a wreck.
Physically, I'm alright.

Overall, I'm just ******* confused.
How many tears have to fall on my pillow
before something finally clicks in my messed up
pile of **** I call a brain?

Help me.

Lost in my mind in my body in my soul,
I don't know what I want anymore, but isn't that how the world crumbles

I need people in my life. Friends, lovers, enemies, anything.
Feeling like **** is still a feeling, and boy am I swimming in it.

Maybe my prospects are potential crutches for me, letting me move forward.
Why should I help myself when I can instead help others?

How can a businessman expect to succeed when his heart speaks louder than his mind?
Let me swim in a sea of tears, drown in a river of blood.
When did I become such a broken, sad man?

Simpler times call for simpler pleasures, of which I have neither.
Breathe into me the spirit of life and watch me choke on it and perish.
Bottle up your feelings and put them on a shelf for everyone to see.
Drink out of the bottles and think fondly of those memories.