busy pitter patters
of feet, at least
pretending
to be busy
these humans,
these flesh sacks,
place their bags
laptops
their unconsciousness
on this barnes & noble’s
coffee tables
whose chairs aren’t comfortable

yet, here they sit, beside me
amongst me
and an old
ancient, it seems now,
version of me would’ve cursed them
silently
while pretending to associate
to relate
to give a ****
for doing so,
for raising my anxiety,
for reflecting what i truly was,
at least
pretending
to identify with that narrow
window of my self

some collide
physically,
cosmically,
spiritually,
intuitively, whatever the hell you brand it

we all seek
connection,
always elsewhere,
never with our miserable
anxious selves

and if we can’t connect
we, at least
pretend
to do so
much like our riddling iphones
desperate for battery
for a sort of
charge
for life
elsewhere
somewhere else
anywhere
else rather than within

to be alone, amongst the crowds,
without our phones, our books,
our lovers, our seven dollar coffees,
our ******* egg white breakfast sanwhiches

almost as if these things
are essential to the unsavory
cravings and desires, or
dare i say
ourselves

we pretend
to work, to live
we read, without reading
we speak, without thinking,
we speak, without speaking,

“to be, or not to be.”

we don’t care for
intention
anymore
how could we?
we’re just so
un-*******-phadomably
busy
doing
nothing,

at all

just,
pretending.

-melanholicreator

I'm not here to judge your perspective
We were in the same place but our childhoods were different
We saw and felt different things
It's not a bad word, it's the way we perceived and lived through everything

We may have been in the same places,
but couldn't see through each other's faces.
We both had our bad experiences
and found ways to get through them

It's been so hard for me to let go
but after we spoke I think I finally know,
I can't do the work for you,
You have to want to evolve for you.

I can't tell you every story I have
and believe you'll understand where I stand or where I've stood,
You have your own desk where you'll write your book
Although it hurt, because I had so much hope.

You preached so much to me about how we should be close-
You told me how you wished for a relationship to grow,
You said I never shared, never asked and never cared.
I feel like I tried so much but your words make me feel unaware.

It hurt when you told me I hide,
Probably because there's some truth to it,
that hurt me deeply inside.
I have masked around our family for as long as I can remember.

I learned so early that I wasn't what was wanted
I was only loved when I went along and nodded
I always agreed, except for when I couldn't
I'd say no to things to avoid the acting

I hated that I had to be a certain way
To stay free of your judgement
I couldn't wear the shoes I wanted,
or play the songs I liked in the car without hearing your homophobic comments

Having to become every expectation
It is how I have lived for so long
I'm so burnt out now
and I finally don't have to be strong.

I went along with it to avoid the uncomfortable feelings I had,
Every time I would have to be around you
I put up with things I should've never had to.
I'm talking about your husband putting your cat on my face when I was asleep and he knew I was allergic.

The more I reflect, the more I see it
Everything you've projected on me
To avoid your own feelings
The clothes, the music, the comments, the expectation of who you wanted me to be-

I'm sorry you feel like you can't keep growing
Now that you're older and have your own family
It must be so painful to be stagnant
When you want to fly with sunflowers

I hate that I make you feel negatively
and there's nothing I can say to help you
I tried the hardest I could to be honest
and because I did my best, I am now free of my mask of burdens

Will I ever not be excited to meet myself?
Will I ever stop expecting a knock at the door, to find myself on the other side, saying
“Hello, it’s so good to finally see you!”

Is there a part of me so removed from the paths I have taken
That is doing everything it can to make its way back to me?
Is she a lover I have forgotten too soon?

Will I no longer await the arrival of someone new
To join me behind the mirror and let me absorb
Enough of her newness to be considered whole?

When do I become
me?

Just slept another
day away,

Forgot to see the
sun rise.

Thought it was
nightfall,

But I guess
I was mistaken
this time.

Got out the wrong
side of the bed,

Put on my
disguise, again.

No one likes
a sad man,

Otherwise,
What’s to say
I’m fine?

Time seems to
pass everyone by

And I wish it
would speed up
in this lifetime.

But the hands
on the clock,

Only moves so far,
just like the sands
in the hourglass
of time.

Just slept another
day away,

Watched the sun,
Come creeping up,

Wore the face of
grief, and regret
under forced
smiles and alibis.

No one likes a sad man.

Why even try?

From a young age I tried to fit in,
Observing those around me from where i was sitting.
Taking in their smiles, jokes and body language,
Learning this social code which they use to their advantage.
My manual is not the same,written entirely for me but I have not read it properly.
Navigating a world where I copy to survive,
Forver wondering if I sustain this will I learn to thrive?
I have become a result of continuous masking,
In social situations I feel like I am drowning.
Living in a world which does not feel for me,all I can do is write about my isolation in poetry.

do you know how hard it is
to have a million thoughts in your head
but no words to speak?

to be screaming “help me”
but no one can hear you?

to be smiling
but having tears drip from your eyes,
betraying your true feelings

to respond to someone in your head
only to realize you never really replied

they call you quiet
but they don’t know how loud you really are