i live cursed.

am i strange? why do i think differently than everyone around me?

it's like i'm captive; stuck in a prison of people who don't see me.
and as i ramble about existentialism
you think to yourself, 'what are they talking about'.
but it was never really a question.

it was a declaration:
an ostracism,
a confession to deceiving me,
a rouse to make me feel sane,
an internal whisper to yourself.

and i make futile attempts to remain sane even though i have forced myself to confront my arbitrary existence while you go out and give no second thought to the meaninglessness of your reality or the chaos you live in.

i live cursed.

however, make no mistake.
because,
although i
live
cursed, i
myself
am not
cursed.

for while i live cursed with the painful knowledge that i am alone,
forever destined to know and accept that my reality exists to no one else,

you do not want to confront your isolation.
you run:
to alcohol,
to toxic relationships,
to nicotine,
to others.

in hopes that maybe
maybe
please
maybe
that one of these times,
you'll be strong enough to face it.

maybe after the next hit
maybe after the next shot
maybe after the next argument
you'll see.

but there again, you falter.
you see, make no mistake of that. because if you didn't see, what would you be fleeing? no, you are well aware of your isolation.

but you fear isolation
you fear lack of affirmation
you need the opinions of others
you crave love
you grasp for some concept of a communal reality
and death terrorizes you through it all.

and so, while i know undoubtedly that i become a little less sane with each agonizing moment of existence,

my isolated state of being
will always
be less alone
than your cowardice.