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The cold has abandoned the world
Everyone has come out
Of their houses
Rejoicing
Because the frost has finally melted away
Everyone but me

I couldn’t be warmer if I tried
I have no heat left
I gave it all away

One degree to those people I
Used to hang out with 3 years ago
Who caused me so much turmoil
If I had had the choice
Even then
I wouldn’t have chosen them to be my friends
They were too nice
Too good for me
But they were also horrible
In all the ways I am not
I did not belong with them

One degree of my heat went to
The girls who were always so nice to me
I didn’t have a place
And they took me in
They made me feel secure
Too secure
I felt so secure
That I thought I could leave them
When I really wasn’t strong
enough to ever do that
But there are some things I can never get back

One degree of my heat
Goes to my weird, wonderful friends
The ones whose hearts beat to the same tune as mine
I didn’t leave them
They didn’t leave me
I just realized
There was never enough between us
To even call on of them leaving
Abandonment
I just saw the love
They had for each other
And pretended they had it for me, too
It worked for a bit
But only for a bit

I have no heat left
What degrees of it I had
Have been lost to the storm
The blizzard that chilled
My heart
The snowstorm that cooled
My bones
The frosting that froze
My body
The cold that crept into
My mind

I am a frozen corpse
I have been a frozen corpse
But this is my last season
My last winter
For I have become too cold
Which will push me to finally do it
To finally thaw my frozen corpse
To finally end it all
Then everything will finally be warm
Y’all anyone free? I need someone to **** me
I raise my hand
Everyone else gets called on
Except me
I’m overlooked.

I walk up to them
I want to talk to them
They turn to face me
And go over to talk to their real friends.

I’m insignificant
I wish I could blame other people for
Ignoring
Me.

But I can’t
I’m worthless
It’s not worth it
To acknowledge me.

These other people are not to blame
These happy few
Who run the world
I am not one of them.

I envy them
Why are they so
Significant?
So worth-full?

But I don’t deserve your attention
I don’t deserve love
As much as a strive, I will never
Be worth it.

It’s not their fault
It’s not your fault
It’s my fault
I shouldn’t have been born.

Overlooked
Meek
Insignificant
Worthless

I wonder why
My mother did not cast me aside
The moment she held me
The moment she knew I was wrong

What were her thoughts
In that moment?
Why did she think
I should be kept?

I think she thought she was
Doing me a favor
When in reality, she was only
Prolonging the inevitable.

Because of this,
I know who I am
Because of this,
I know I am worthless.

No one else knows this, though
I am surprised
I thought my inferiority oozed through my pores
But it doesn’t.

I thought they would be able to smell me
But they can’t
They look at me
And they do not know.

Wow
It seems that
I am so insignificant
No one can noticed my worthlessness.

I am insignificant
But I am here
Doomed to walk this Earth
Alone.

It is my curse for living.
Numb

I can’t
Feel anything
I sit
I blast music in my ears
To drown out the sorrow from my brain
I can’t stand it
The tidal wave of nothing in my head
It has settled at the bottom
Rising almost all the way to the top
Where my only living emotions lie
Pain
Exhaustion
And their friends
I want to end it all
I have to end it all
I can’t end it yet
But I wish I could
But what’s keeping me from doing it
Nothing I have is worth keeping
I’m not worth saving
I wish I could die
It would be better that way
For everyone else
And me
No one will miss me
Least of all those close to me
I am a scourge to all those around me
Why can’t I do it?
Why can’t I **** myself?
The answer is all to plain to see:
I am a coward
I’m stuck in my ways
I’m passive
I can’t even bear to do something
Anything
That would improve the quality of life
For all those around me
I don’t have to be here
I don’t want to be here
I shouldn’t be here
So I ask you
You over there
You
You have a knife
You have a stick
You have something
You can do it
Do it for the world
Do it for yourself
Do it for me
It would really be a favor for yourself, though
Go ahead
Rid the world of my shadow
Let the spot used to fill me encapsulated in light
The world will celebrate my death
There will be a national holiday
Dedicated to celebrating the lack of me
And remembering that
I, too, would be celebrating if I could
It would have been the only time I could feel joy
Heccc
I should be reading right now
The stack of books in my room glares at me
Wondering if I’ll ever deign to bring them to my eyes
I hope I will
They’re due back to the library in two weeks
I’m still only in the first one
Which is, frankly, 980 pages long
But I’m only halfway through with
A person on my tumblr account
Read it and the book before it
In the week it took for me to read half of the one I have now
Not that I’m a slow reader, of course
I just have no free time
Lucky tumblr user

I should be working right now
The director’s script for a documentary I helped produced is due on Monday
That’s tomorrow
We haven’t even started it yet
When I was watching the documentary earlier yesterday
I noticed that one of the infographics
I spent many days of hard work on
That I had changed multiple times for the sake of being included in the final product
Was not there
I wasn’t even consulted
When my hard work was washed all down the drain
Not like anyone cares, though
It’s not like I’m gonna kick up a fuss
Or something
Just a little “hey, can we cut this out?
We need more space and this information isn’t really necessary anymore.”
I would have said
“Yes, of course. Anything to help.”
But that never happened
Now, there’s just work waiting to be done
That I don’t want to do

I should be with my friends right now
Not like they care about me, though
I hate to break it to myself, but they don’t really love me
Like I love them
Perhaps they see me around sometimes
But they won’t go out of their way to meet me
They’ll do it for each other, though
I’m just an interloper on what they have together
I could never hold a candle to what they share
We don’t even have classes together
Not really
I see them with each other more than they are with me
I could never have what they have
They think I’m insignificant
And they’re right
When the year is up, they’ll leave me in the dust
For each other
I’ll try not to be sad
But maybe it’ll give me the courage
To go home
Get something
And end it all

I should be writing right now
No, not this depressing *******
But actual creativity
I have a WIP
Keyword: in progress
That I’ve had for the past two years
I’m so close to finishing it
So close
But far enough away that I don’t want to try
I don’t have the energy for this
Maybe I should just give up
Nothing I make is worth anything anyway
I’ll die young and decrepit
No one will remember my name
No one will want to
Someday, someone may discover this page
A shrine to who I am
To who I will never be
I can’t wait for it to be over

I should be painting right now
Even if I’m not very good at it
Even if nothing I make is worth anything to anyone
But maybe I’ll feel better
If I’m surrounded by the things that I’ve created
Not happy because I formed something better
But because my building blocks were at least in good taste
But it’s too cold in my basement
It’s too cold in my heart
I can’t foster warmth
For I
Have none myself
My work lacks quality

I should be doing something right now
Anything to keep the depression away
To keep the sadness for nipping at my heels
To give me warmth, something to live for
To give me happiness, like a warm blanket
To give me life
To give me energy
To give me something
But I have nothing
And I am nothing
Insignificant
Worthless
I’m just trying to burn time before I start to cry
And have to know the pain of being alive
Which begs the question
Why do I stay at all?
I’ve been cold since December
The trees groan and ache in the wind, just like these old bones
Passed down from mother to mother
Until they finally reached me
Do these bones hold art?
Do they hold forgotten names?
What storms have beheld these stories?
Why do they grow cold at the growing shadows?

My home has been cold since December
Winter weather penetrates the walls, chilling
These
Old
Bones
Where has this cold come from?
Why does it seek me to embrace it?
But most importantly
If I do embrace it, what will happen to me then?

My soul’s been cold since December
It knows that it was the month I was born in
It knows I shouldn’t have lasted this long
It knows these old bones are ready to collapse
Why have they waited this long?
Who are they waiting for?
Who is going to come to collect me?
Why have I been born if only to die?

My heart’s been cold since December
No, since before that
Not even the summer sun can thaw loneliness
I have frostbite in my chest
What would happen if I just took it out?
Could anyone dare to love me then?
I’m not asking for much; just asking for a friend
Perhaps if I take out my heart, then my wounds may finally heal

My life’s been cold since forever
To say it hasn’t been that way for a long time would be to lie
It’s not just the winter sun that lacks heat
I have nothing left to live for
Where would I be if I was worth anything to those around me?
Where would I go if everything I touched didn’t wither and die before me?
Who would love me if I could be loved?
Who could love
These old bones?
No one asked for me to be here
Least of all myself
I know I am unwanted
That I am a wrong being
I was not made to be loved
I’m sorry to all those who have tried
I know you think I fall for those smiling eyes
Those next to kind words
But I know the truth
I am insignificant, and you know this to be true
I am only a side piece to a true connection
People would only miss me
Because they feel like they have to
Or because they’d tricked themselves into thinking I was worth something
That’s not just their problem, though
It’s mine
How can I expect myself to leave when I will leave so much sadness in my wake
Even if it’s not warranted
Even if it’s not asked for
I’ve already caused so much harm by being here
By being wrong
But I can’t end things now
Because that would make everything worse
I know no one truly should care about me
But some are too good to see that
And try to love me anyway
They can’t see that
I was born broken
I cannot be fixed
But I won’t let them know
Because I don’t want everyone to know there’s something wrong with me
I shouldn’t be here at all
I shouldn’t be alive
So every night, I ask myself,
“Why am I like this?”
Why am I alive?
I try to take down my day
In a journal.
I used to use a
Purple book,
But that ran out of pages
So now I use my goldfish one.
It has a hard cover
Cerulean blue sea of fabric backing
And a goldfish
Embroidered on the front.
It has a drawing of a
Statue of Caligula
And an illustration of
A Terra Cotta Warrior.
But it has so much more.
If you flip to the end
turn a few pages
you’ll get to the start of
my second journal.
It’s written in black ink
Messy handwriting
And crunched form.
But it’s my own
And I treasure it beyond all others
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