He's holding strong
He doesn't want to fall in this trap
He has seen it happen to many people
They fell but never got up

He's afraid
What if he fall too hard
And no one catches him
He can break
And no one will be able to fix him

He's afraid of the things that follows
Trust
Commitment
Honesty
How can he ever be open

He's afraid of blindness
The things it will make him do
Will he ever be the same person
Will he be able to love again

He saw what it did to many people
Hid parents include
It destroy people
He doesn't think that he can deal with it

This thing called love
Could be his only phobia

                     ~ForestGreenSoul

Anguish poured over

               its open and avoidable.

                              He goes to the bathroom down the hall.

                                             I’m so glad I

                                             am not alone.

The sign of a drunken person is not through the sound of vibrant disillusion shouting obscenities through existential inebriation, but in the length of their face when they wake up one day to that stark realization that whatever once was can never be again.

The eyes become darker, mute and cold, the mind obscured by all the things they probably cared about when they had the opportunity but never merely took; and it is in their demeanor where life seethes nowhere in the voice except where it is merely enough to get them through just one more begrudging day of sinister regret gnawing at their heels every waking moment.

Hollow souls show us what we never want to be but somehow so many of us succumb to the same discrepancies and injustices of belittlement from the world around us: sober eyes and sharp tongues convincing us we are nothing more than what we think we are; and what we are to begin with is nothing, taking shape from the beginning of it all, ready to be molded into something grand and good – we must all start from somewhere, but most are subjugated before any of it can even begin; and ultimately, many of us never truly live at all.

Drunken, with the desire to simply live.

At times I feel socially awkward
hiding away those eyes from contact
mumbling and stuttering
as though I were stumbling,
upon the words as I was discovering.

Please don’t think I don’t want to talk
when I rush out,
Please don’t think I don’t want to talk,
when I don’t open your messages.

I escape out of nervosity
I feel the fuzziness in my head
butterflies in my stomach
nervosity in my nerves
lack of air in my lungs
tremble in my muscles
and the gritting of my teeth on my nails
as it drains every ounce of energy out of me.

I hide behind shadows
so I don’t encounter any social interaction.

No matter how many times I plan
and play a conversation in my head
I shudder and fret in reality,
making myself look like an awkward mess.

I want to be friends
I want to say hi
but the words do not escape
for I feel tongue tied.

I feel conscience and dreadful
for being such an awkward mess
choking on words
unable to let them
escape my tongue.

I am thinking
more than I am speaking
I can have a conversation in my head
but somehow, I find it difficult in reality.

But then you reach out
and make the first move
It makes it easier;
only to find myself
being an embarrassment once again.

But you don’t judge
you play it cool
and remain patient
you still show an eager to talk
and maybe that was what I needed
to be comfortable and me.

I can't concentrate because of your words,
the ones I can't help but listen too.
You say people are selfish
for loving two kinds of people, not one.
You say that it's confusing,
to like both sexes the same.

Like we need you to understand,
like we need your permission to like who we want to like

I never asked you at all.