Life just keeps swirling,
like an endless spiral.
Things keep moving on,
without me.
People, places, and things
just don't seem to care or need me anymore.

Why? I'm not sure.
Maybe I've set myself up for this kind of failure,
because of the people I've surrounded myself with,
the choices I've made,
the places I choose to be.
No one really seems to care about me.

And so I sit, alone.
That's not such a bad thing,
being alone.
Maybe some solitude will do me some good.
But then I start to swirl into this place of
self-hatred,
misunderstanding,
depression for lack of a better word.

But when I get there,
it doesn't seem like I can get out
of this place I've somehow managed to put myself into.
But all I really want is to be held,
to be loved,
but a part of me doesn't want to be touched,
deep down I feel like, maybe,
I'm meant to be alone,
I'm don't deserve anyone to love me.

And so I sit.
Alone.
Swirling.