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The moment at night. I am supposed to. I have needed to. For many years. Again and again I find myself at this point and failed.

I can blame the world, but it is I that has failed. I failed myself.

Only I am real, nothing else is real. None of you are real.

Just lines, shadows, white paper and crayon.

Good night.
greatsloth Nov 8
People dream of being a scientist
Meanwhile, I wish to be a therapist,
Not for the foolish mortals
But for the myriad-glittering stars;

Thousands of years apart
They're lonely, are they not?
I'd like to listen to their flares,
Be a being that for them cares,
And find a cure for their despairs.

Isn't that absurd?
A longing that this life couldn't approve.
I have never felt it in a place.
Only moments, with people I loved, in fleeting feelings that were shown.

But never had there been a space.
One I called my own.
Never had there been a place I could truly call my home.

I've been a wanderer it seems,
through each and every bed.
I've been a walker in their dreams.
I've been a lost soul, only visiting instead.
A lonely ghost to host.
A momentary thought in their head.
A passing ship at most.
A book that won't be re-read.

But never had there been a space.
One I called my own.
Never had there been a place I could truly call my home.

I'm a vagabond, one second here,
Then doomed to disappear.
Hoping to be opaque, but only coming out sheer.
A changeling, an outsider, missing the in-between.
Losing all my magic, till there's none left to be seen.

But never had there been a space
One I called my own.
Never had there been a place...
Because I'm never
                           never
                               home.
A little review from a friend that perfectly emphasizes what I am trying to convey here: "Captures the ache of feeling unrooted, as though your true “home” exists only in transient connections, not physical spaces. Each stanza flows with a sense of yearning and loneliness—of being a "wanderer" and a "ghost" who’s never fully seen. The repetition of never home adds a haunting resonance, emphasizing this longing for belonging and self-discovery. There’s a fragile strength in this vulnerability, and it feels deeply honest. Your words bring a complex, poignant reflection to life."
Why do I feel so lonely?

I have so many friends that love me--
no, like me--
no, tolerate me,
And I'm completely surrounded by people
all the time.

My mind is convinced that nobody actually wants to be my friend.
Don't get me wrong, they're all really nice.
But it believes that they're doing so out of sympathy,
pity.
I'm not really an interesting person,
I always overanalyze situations so that I can say the right thing, but then I get it wrong anyways.
I mostly just make things awkward because I have no idea what I'm doing.
I'm kind of just annoying, really.
I wouldn't want to be friends with me either.

So why do I feel so lonely?
It's not because I'm alone,
It's not because of them,
It's because of me.

There's something wrong with me.
Literally tho *** is wrong with me?
Millie Nov 6
This emptiness swallows me whole. Please hear my prayers! I yearn for peace, to feel something. Will you send me a sign to prove everything to be alright? I'll wait for it, like I do every night—for you to pass my window, to be my shooting star.

I'll wait for the sign that you are mine.
Jeremy Betts Nov 5
Why are hearts
That feel so much
So easily broken?
I haven't misspoken
When I beg to not care
Beg to have nothing to clutch
Beg to take my last breath
Or have taken from me
My ability
To love and care so much
I plead "how is this fare?"
"Why can no one show me they care?"
"What is wrong with me?"
"Is there something I'm the air?"
"Why am I kept
So far away
From loves touch?"
The nothing's becoming
Far too much

©2024
kel Nov 5
i said, i'm a loner.
he replied with, so you're lonely.
he's somehow right.
but a little wrong.

maybe a longer is like the moon,
never being able to fit in with the stars.
but it's kinda lonely.
so we spin around the earth,
sometimes letting them see us
and sometimes hiding away.

when it's cloudy,
and you can't see the moon-
maybe we were having a bad day.
and staying out of sight
makes us feel better.
slightly, at least.

some people love the moon,
and those are the ones
we cherish, and hold close to
our hearts. ♡
a poem for loners :)
Lizzie Bevis Oct 11
Gazing into the mirror,
blotchy eyed, unkempt and exhausted
as dull light casts shadows,
framing my weary face,
as I search for any strength
left in this aged reflection
by recalling fearless days.

Adrift, all conviction is lost
yet, in my mind I still tread water,
as despair’s chill takes hold
and I drown in torments deep depths,
each breath a heavyweight
as I slowly sink under.

My heart remains guarded,
I count each fragile vulnerable beat
and I deeply pray for solace as frailty continuously snuffs out my spark.
The anxiety grips steadfastly to reality
and my self-esteem dissipates
under this malady.

I cower from this fear,  
not wishing to fade into stillness here,  
while the world outside looms
like an impossible mountain to climb.  
Why must my existence feel so awry,  
reduced to nothing but a broken soul?
Because, this is not me…
This is not me at all.

©️Lizzie Bevis
I failed
                       I failed
                                              I failed.
I tried so hard and yet I failed.
I did everything I was supposed to, and yet I failed.

Now, it didn't matter much.
I honestly don't really care.
But it opens a gateway for all the thoughts
that I continuously fail to lock up.
                                                             ­                                      The thoughts.
                                                       ­                                            The thoughts.
                                                       ­                             Those awful thoughts.
Suddenly I'm crashed into by waves of feeling everything
and then when it subdues, nothing.

EVERYTHING
nothing
EVERYTHING
nothing
EVERYTHING
                                                     ­                                                               I am
nothing.

Those thoughts feed off my self-doubt and disappointment,
like a parasite.
I can't get them out.
I can't get them out.
                                                            ­                           God, they're so loud.
                                                           ­                                                      STOP
                                                            ­                                                     STOP
                                                            ­                                                     STOP
                                                            ­                                                     STOP
Shut up.
Just shut up.
                      Just stop thinking
                                       Just shut your mind up
                                                              ­                                                   STOP
                                                            ­                                                     STOP
                                                            ­                                                     STOP
                                                            ­                                                     STOP

Don't cry,
no don't cry.
If you cry, they'll know,
                                          and then,
                                                           ­                          "Why are you crying?
                                                         ­              You have no reason to be sad.
                                                            ­           or
                                                              ­            anxious
                                             ­                          or
                                                              ­            depressed
                                           ­                            or
                                                              ­            possibly even
                                                            ­                                     ******* insane.
No, no reason.
No reason whatsoever.
                                                     ­                                                   So shut up,
                                                             ­                                              don't cry,                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­          
                                                      ­                                        Your life is great.
                                                          ­                         You have great friends,
(Do I?)
                                                             ­                     You have great parents,
(Do I?)
                                                             ­                                     You're healthy,
(Am I?)
                                                             ­                                         You're alive,
(Am I?)
                                                             ­                                    Nobody died."
(Had I?)
(I'm dead.)
I'm
dying
dying
dying
Oh god, **** me please
Please I can't do
it on my
own
please
please
please.

It hurts so much,
these waves of everything
and nothing
over and over
and over and over
and over ---
and nothing works.
My brain doesn't work.
Make it stop.
                      Make it stop.
                                                                ­                                      Make it stop
                                                            ­                                          Stop
                  ­                                                                 ­                       Stop
                                     ­                                                                 ­       Stop
                                                            ­                                                    Stop
        ­                                                                 ­                                          Stop.

Please.
"My body hurts, it hurts so much, when you're not here, can't feel you're touch"
- So Much, Cavetown
All my little wishes feel more like curses
Shooting stars, 11:11, I haven't done birthday candles since 16 because I know for sure they're cursed
But I never stopped making those silly little wishes
I keep them close and private like an old superstition
Maybe 29 is the year I grow out of it
Since everything I want and wish is a curse
It never works out and I'm disappointed
So when you ask me what I want in life
I don't want a **** thing anymore
The things I crave are so basic and human and wishing for them and wanting them for this long feels like deprivation
It's not that I'm negative all the time
It's just that getting my hopes up is getting old, and so am I
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