Why does everyone else laugh at the jokes,
That I find not funny?

Why does no one else laugh at the things,
That I find to be funny?

Why does everyone else seem to have a perfect life,
While I do not?

Why does everyone else seem to be so happy,
When I'm trying not to cry?

Why does everyone make everything seem so easy
When I stumble over my words?

Why does everyone else seem to have everything
While I'm still searching for happiness?

Why does everyone seem to be loved,
While I crave the feeling?