how am i meant
to know what my life
is going to look like
after highschool?

will i be in university?
studying what?
what job will i have?
where am i living?
what friends do i have?
did everyone leave?

how am i meant
to know
who i am
entirely
at 15
if most people
dont even know themselves
at 35?

writing these are dumb.

stupid even.

no one my age writes!
i feel so out of place.
alone,
drowning in my feelings almost.

i cant breathe.
being the odd one out
is already enough.
not this dumb nerdy trait too.

"she writes whenever she feels"

"uh oh! be careful she might write about you"

so what?
i can't exist now?

fine.

ill stop.
on the account of my anxiety
getting worse --
my attendance too.
my friends leave me slowly.

i grow distant from the world
when i get anxious
and my writing helps me with that.

yeah, let's stop writing
and let that happen.

"act nonchalant"
"im so nonchalant"
"oh my gosh he is so mysterious!"
"why is she so mysterious and serious?"

nonchalant this,
mysterious that,
what about smiling?
showing your feelings?

showing your happiness?

laughing is better than being
nonchalant
and mysterious.

smiling is better than being
numb
and serious.

living your best life is better than being
somber
and enigmatic.

smile in photos.
laugh with your friends.
scream at concerts.
dance at parties --
or even at the store
when a good song
echoes through the speakers.

be you.

not this
nonchalant,
mysterious,
serious,
numb,
somber
and enigmatic
version of you.

because its not you.

i possess misfortune.

in many ways.

it feels like
all that occurs
is my fault,
the unfortunate events
of forgetting,
falling,
foolishness,
anger,
anxiety,
apprehension,
p­eople leaving,
people crying,
people dying --
is all my misfortune.

my fault.

in many ways.

i dread talking the truth,
letting those words flow out
of my brain
and out my mouth.

it's seldom.

i dont speak my truth,
i am never honest
with my real feelings.

wont it just hurt people?

i stare into
your sapphire eyes,
communicating your true feelings
without truly
speaking.

they tell me everything i need to know,
what you really think.
about everyone,
the world,
about me.

...

i stare into
your sapphire eyes,
they stopped talking awhile ago.
you've gone completely
numb.

she danced slowly,
hand holding the blue-ink pen,
words flowing...
...and flowing
onto the page
with practiced ease.

a loud but quiet plea
to the people who surround.
"help me,
im stuck in a forever loop
of my own thoughts!
they just
won't
stop"

i watched gently.
sitting in a quiet corner
of the book filled library,
watching her.

not in a creepy way,
in a worried way.

i've seen the stuff
she tends to write,
it worries me.

it worries me
to the point i can't
stop
thinking
about
it.

about
her.