I began my life active with sports and other meaningless award systems.
Girl's recreational soccer, basketball, bike riding, math competitions, the works
Today, I feel weightless
useless would be best fit
As if all the running, jumping, yelling, point requiring statuses pushed the light out of my transitioned life.

I find myself sitting in one area often, as one may do
But different than sitting on a bench or sitting actively in company of others
I sit wondering exactly who I am looking at
Why am I empty lifeless longing towards an imaginary spot in the distant wall
I imagine some events in these minutes of stoic despair
Hearing goes weak and frozen, in this second, while I continue my Sunday brunch with non-conformative attitudes and her mother, the sweet old dementia
I don't mean to have their meetings often, I must of first acquainted as the first grade trauma or the Broadway rendition of Alone Thoughts featuring the Broken High School Years.
I hope to work the wheels again, to end these meetings and to live for once, in the midst of motion and pause.
This time, stopping and starting as I please.

Why do I stay inside all day?
The sun don’t feel the same

This sadness is ...
Part of me, I’ve never known life without it
Keeping me under, deep away from the light
A beating to my skull,
I will never be good enough

Some days are manageable,
I quiet the hate in my mind and go about my day
These days could not be worse, I cannot move
I sit alone, afraid of how others will deal with my burden
failure, rude, not putting myself out there
Just a few names they pin to me

During the days I can let myself breath,
I think maybe
just maybe
I’ve broken from the grasp
I will be able to live freely
It’s a short lived high.

But I know I’ll never be right
It’s so hard to live
But they told me it only gets better

But the sun still doesn’t feel the same from inside.

Darkness is funny in the ways he works.
I feel him embrace me from behind, like old friend's surprises
In a room full of fresh bright and clean faces, I only recognize one
There will be only him to run back to.

I picked the name as darkness arbitrarily.
He goes by loss, despair, many others he doesn't want me to say
I try to ditch him, to unfriend this glitch in my normality, turn every corner looking for a way to unhook myself from this line
I use him as he engulfs me, intensely scales as I excuse myself from dinner.

He doesn't leave, turning to faces surround me
he will be there
A stench of a disaster, stains on holy clothes, we will not be separate
The days I have without him are short, warm, comforting
There's that word,
I burn uneasy from that name than I do of my old friend
He knows how to cloth me
willed days to be long, lost and cold.

I run to find the ease of unhappiness and solitude day in and day fall
I don't mean to be rude, I must go, I'm in need of darkness.

I was birthed into darkness
An aura inside isn't right

I was constructed from darkness
A broken down youth resurrected as a hopeless adult

I am surrounded by my darkness
A spotlight that is a black hole

I join others
Laugh, connect, smiles all around
I have to distance myself
I hide, I cry, I am rude and ungrateful

I have also felt the need to leave
Flying, soaring, far

They clip my wings
Judge, condemn, shame me for 'not putting myself out there'
I'm trying my hardest

To be happy, to enjoy, to find a purpose
the hate drives me back to my place

I cannot leave and I only see darkness on my horizon

What is considered trying anymore?
Is it buying lunch for a friend
or making sure they got home safe
or being someone they can lean on in hard times

I'd like to think I try
I try to be the person I wish I had
I try to make sure the few close to me feel the love I wish I could receive.

I start the conversations,
I want them to share with me,
allow me to enter their lives

But when I stop talking,
in hopes they are interested by me,
I receive silence

The hours go by with silence dominating the conversation
no more questions, no more laughs
I sit wondering why
why I am not loved.

What makes me the outsider
Why is it so hard for me to be met with interest
instead of silence

They see my tired eyes
Red and puffy
and down turned smile
but yet
All I only receive questions from the silence

No one cares about me

I despise social media.
It's ugly, to state the obvious
Our lives are posted, retweeted, altered, reblogged, perfected, and photoshopped to exactly how we want to be perceived
We have the freedom to be exactly what they want us to be.

It starts with a few edits doesn't it,
pigmented our skin to seem smooth and sun kissed,
that would seem most acceptable right?
Maybe an extra like for the skinnier waist.
More reassurance for brighter colors.
Some more filters will hid the emptiness you feel with your friends
   Another like
Flashier clothing, phones, shoes, cars, other simple words our eyes have latched on to
     Another like
We urge ourselves to portray the life of leisure and effortless beauty, happiness, success,
       Another like
But what are we enjoying?
         Another like
Views of our changing world through a 3 by 8 view.
           Another like
Events pass by swipe
             Another like
and swipe
               Another like

And when we managed to unlock ourselves from this grasp
We always come back
Like flies to light, more like scratches to a scab
Festering we find ourselves getting ****** back in
To an imaginary world, that if destroyed, would have no physical effects on their fictional beings
For without this world, maybe eyes will open
We will step past the boundaries,
and start to love our beings
unfiltered

He saw the best in me
          I gave my best to him
                    He got the best of me
                              I wasn’t ‘the best for him’