Before you say,
"You are holding on to me too much"
Let me tell you, not cheesily but realistically
That you are all I have
In a world of "hi-bye" conversations
You are one to whom I can talk about
Every book I've read or every political opinion I have
Every thought that passes in the blink of an eye
Every feeling I've felt at every moment I've spent
Every thing, with or without significance, alike
You are the one whom I introduce to my mother
With a smile that says,
"Mom, this is the reason why I've been sleeping peacefully
And breathing easily
And not feeling as lonely as I used to be"
So before you ask,
"Oh, so I can't hang out with anyone else now?"
I'll tell you that you can
But I can't
Because I can't relate to anyone else
In this world of formalities and judgement
That I feel left-out when you aren't there
So when I sit there with gloomy eyes
And tell you,
"I'm fine. I'm just sleepy, that's all"
What I actually wanna say is,
"OH, I ******* HATE EVERYONE"
But you don't have to hunch your back carrying my burdens
I am an ever-lasting internal battle
You won't understand me
Neither will you, or you, or you, or you
And before you say,
"It's all just an illusion, you're not as lonely as you think you are"
I am
Because I find myself in dark corners at times
Severely depleated in shoulders to cry on
You don't know what that's like
You don't know what it's like to sleep on a wet pillow every night
Dreading every single day
You don't know how it's like to hide underneath desks
And make up plausible excuses for your ever-lasting sadness
And before you say,
"Poor people are dying in our country-"
I know, I know they are
Charlie from Perks of Being a Wallflower said that,
"When my children grow up and they are facing problems like these
I won't tell them things like kids are starving in other countries
Because it isn't gonna make them feel any better"
I wish people like Charlie were real
So everytime you say,
"I'll be there for you"
Like this is ******* 'Friends'
I don't believe it for a single second
I don't need you to make promises out of sympathy
Truth is, this won't exist if people really gave a ****
And when you ask,
"What do you want from life?"
Honestly... honestly?
All I want is someone to come and put a hand on my shoulder
Look me in the eye and ask,
"How has your day been?"
And listen to each and every word of my reply
Listen to why I write such poems at midnight
Why I feel the way I do
And then maybe, maybe
You'll understand why I don't want to let go of you