Can I ask you a question?

"First of all, it's may I."
"And second of all, you just did."

It's really hard to carry the weight of the world.
It's really hard to ask a girl out.
It's really hard to love myself sometimes.
It's really hard to stop this heartache.
It's really hard to be happy with pain.
It's really hard to convey this to people.

Life's just really hard to live sometimes.

"Who wants me anyway?" is the question I ask.
No one answers.
No one is listening.

"Who wants me anyway?" is the question she asks.
I answer, "Me."
No one is listening.

Someone please save me because I am drowning.

And the most important thing is:

I don't know how to swim.

My life is a big mess.

And I don't know how to fix it.

On these blank pages is where I write my story.
It has some sad moments, but my story is a happy story.
I grew up without a father figure there to guide me.
No man to say "Good job son" or play catch with me on Sundays.
I grew up large, literally.
I've always been a bit on the heavy side.
I like to think of it as: "God had too many ingredients to include when making me, so he threw them all in anyways."
But I think he included too many tablespoons of self-disappointment.
I lack self-confidence in myself to accomplish even the littlest task.
I've always felt embarrassed in situations around "cool" people that I always fumble and botch what I'm doing.
I've never been with a woman.
I think they all were just made to avoid me but I know that's not the case.
As much as I may "avoid" them I hate it.
I desperately want to talk to a girl, but I lack the words to say.
And even when I find the words to say, they all come flying back at me eventually.
"Women" is something I think I'll never understand fully or even get, unless I pretend to be a Christian on Christian Mingle.
Or Farmer on Farmer's Only.
But I digress.
Even though I consider myself to be a nice guy, people still hate me.
I have no idea why, but they do.
It spreads like wildfire around me.
People snicker here and people snicker there.
It drives me insane.
Life drives me insane.
My lack of confidence drives me insane.
I just want to stand and flip this table onto the ground.
And sometimes I want to shout "*******" and "this is hell."
I just want to stand and start a revolution.
Tell people how I really am.
Kiss the girl I like.
Say "**** it" to the rest of the world.
Become someone who matters.
I just want to stand and scream, but I don't.
I just sit back down at this table, typing on this computer.
I'm surrounded by friends and tables.
I look around the room at all these people going about their lives and their days.
I just refocus back on this blank page, where I write my story.
It has some sad moments,
But my story is a happy story.

Those eyes are beautiful.
Like diaries unopened.
But I need to be careful.
Before I fall for them again.
They stare into my soul.
When I look at all the pictures.
Their main goal.
Must be to injure.
Injure my pride.
My ****** emotions.
To send me sky high.
To cause one big commotion.
Those eyes have lust.
Lust not for me.
They don't just settle for rust.
But all and every thing.
When I stare at them.
They turn into a book.
But when I stare again.
I see myself as the story's crook.
I lust for them.
As you lust for me.
But I'll rust for them.
And you'll rust carefully.
Eyes can reveal and they can hide.
They hide our darkest secret until the end.
They witness our lust for each other, in pride.
But pride is a sin, my friend.