There is a pressure in someone needing you,
a pressure many of you will know.
It's the expectancy that you can bring to
them, some otherworldly glow.
Even though you feel your own light dimmed,
they still wish for you to help them with theirs,
unaware that others face issues too.

Sometimes you need escape, from
everyone and everything.
Sometimes you need...normality. Sometimes.

What can I give you?
You're busy, well, I'm busy too,
busy-ness and stress are not things
specific only to you.

There is only so much I can do.
When I have work, and
family and
friends and I haven't
seen Dad in weeks and
everything is laying
once again in tatters, as always,
but never mind because all that
matters is that there
is always that
one last thing to
mend.

That one thing.
Sometimes it's me,
sometimes it's a boy or girl,
sometimes it's a friend
or a loved one
or an unfixable object.

Sometimes, darling, it's you.

You have no idea how much I want to help you.

I'm trying. Give me that.
Fine, I ****** up, but
I'm human too.
I'm imperfect and selfish, but
so is everyone,
including you.

I am no angel, you thought
too much.
I have fought, and will continue
to fight on your side, but I'll
not abide you placing on
me so much pressure,
I cannot always be the cheshire
cat of smiles, cannot always be
lost, cannot always be drifting.
Sometimes I'm just tired, over worked
but happy.
Which isn't so bad to be.

I don't like people seeing me weak,
I detest the fact that I turn
so meek at the mere sight of
people.
I don't want you to pity me.

I want you to be my friend.
You are my friend,
I've given you my trust,
why can't you see how tough
that was to give?
I'm not about to give up on you,
so don't give up on me.

I enjoy spending time with you,
love laughing at your jokes,
messing with your gelled up hair
and thinking that, for a couple of minutes,
I took away the cares that bothered you.

You cannot disbelieve that which is true.

Darling, sometimes I need space,
I need sleep and peace, with
no pressure to be perfect.
Sometimes I cancel plans, but
there is always a reason, a valid excuse,
and I would rather I
didn't turn to find abuse for this.

When I've had to go to a funeral and,
for once, would like someone near at
night, which recently has caused me fright to be alone,
the right response is
to wish for my boy to be near.

So I did. I told you. I felt bad.

I feel sad that you're aching,
but everybody hurts.

After a bonfire, when I
can't get back til late, and
I feel tired and weighted down
with aches and bruises, I tend
to lose my wish to hitchhike
home, so that I can feel bad
for feeling sleepy.
So I can feel bad for keeping
you waiting.

In that moment, all I want is
coffee, and near
friends and tea.

Whatever you wanted me to be,
it wasn't human.
It wasn't me.

Fine, I'm ****,
I'm a ***** and
a ***, and obviously
don't care at all, but after
all these years I have the
***** to say something to
your face (well..computer screen).

Don't you dare erase me.
Not after all of this.

I'm dyslexic, naturally
disorganised, my sense of
time and calendar is catastrophic and
I'm forever full of work and
dance and sleep.

But you're going to keep me,
please,
because I don't deserve to be
ditched.

If you don't agree, then you're the *****.