Now I know
that something’s
wrong.
Something’s wrong
with me —
but I know
it’s only temporary.
I know
I can change,
that I can make it
to the other side.
Still, I know
something’s wrong,
because nobody’s talking
to me.
Endless nights
spent alone —
I never imagined
life would look like this
at 32,
living life
like
a washed-
up rolling
stone
with barely
anything
to show.
Starting over
for the millionth time —
can’t apologize
when there’s
nothing left.
Like a payphone
with no dial tone,
there’s no one
on the other line,
because
nobody’s talking
to me.
Show me,
show me
how to live,
because
something’s wrong —
and
everyone’s looking,
but nobody’s talking
to me.
Nov 30, 2025
Nov 30, 2025 at 8:45 PM UTC
Now I know
that something’s
wrong.
Something’s wrong
with me —
but I know
it’s only temporary.
I know
I can change,
that I can make it
to the other side.
Still, I know
something’s wrong,
because nobody’s talking
to me.
Endless nights
spent alone —
I never imagined
life would look like this
at 32,
living life
like
a washed-
up rolling
stone
with barely
anything
to show.
Starting over
for the millionth time —
can’t apologize
when there’s
nothing left.
Like a payphone
with no dial tone,
there’s no one
on the other line,
because
nobody’s talking
to me.
Show me,
show me
how to live,
because
something’s wrong —
and
everyone’s looking,
but nobody’s talking
to me.
The second part of my ongoing reflection inspired by All Time Low’s “Everyone’s Talking.”
Written at 32, after years of grief, addiction, survival, and starting over again and again. This poem is for the quiet nights when everyone’s looking, but nobody’s talking to you.
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