13 years old, the back of a haunted hay-ride pick-up truck, wearing a bright yellow bee costume. He grabbed my hand like it was going to break, but my heart was whirring like a jackhammer because he had nice eyes and played guitar.

We talked shyly all day, and I remember each passing glance as we both tried to pretend we weren't looking at the other.

Evidently we pretended a little too much, because it was Katie he ended up kissing in the pumpkin patch that night. Not me.

That was the end of our love story.

My Father said,
“Sometimes, Conor, you talk too much
And talk too little.”

I’ll let you figure that out on your own
So here I go:

I started off as shy
Didn’t like to meet people’s eyes
I was floating in the skies
So when I dropped I was surprised

I began to talk more,
Sometimes I just don’t shut up
There’s so much I have to say
But of time there’s not enough

My Primary years were years of torture
Those twisted words a killer
“Stupid. *****. ******. Loser”
I shut my eyes and mouth, head down, just kept cruising
Hoping. Praying
That someone would maybe save me

But I was unlucky
No-one came to rescue me
So pretty soon I hated the world that surrounded me
A father gone, overseas, fighting a war.
Because when it comes to family, some things are worth dying for.

Well pretty soon after, I wanted to die
When I found out that I wasn’t quite alright
My difference wasn’t me just being a shy guy
That untroubled dragon, unburdened, flying in the sky

Because I was diagnosed with Asperger’s at the age of eight
Chance hated me, it seemed, and so too did fate
Adding fuel to the fire, an internal pyre
That consumed me, hungrily, leaving me broken and tired

So my innocence was ignorance
You can tell by the evidence
I wanted an exit
Another way I could end this

Years down the track, and who am I now?
Am I that joker you thought I was, head up and proud?
The friend to the friendless, my speech is just endless
But at the end of the day I’m only pretending

Because I’m not okay, I’m a broken part
To a greater whole of some use, just needing a kick-start
My friends and family, you see, they disagree with me
Saying worn is not broken, and either way it isn’t easy

It hasn’t been easy, torn by the truth
And mocked for my teeth, hit at times, left bruised
Sticks and stones may break my bones and all that other ****
By words hit hard too and at times it’s hard to deal with it

Now I don’t seek attention, just tried to let them know
That I was struggling and there were some things I couldn’t let go
From the first time I was called “Bucky” to the handle of a blade
I wanted to tear apart all the **** they had made

So I started hacking away at myself
Trying to find a better someone else
The answer lies not in blood spilled, or the steel used to slash through
But in your mind hides a better you, a person with a better view

It just takes time to uncover
The century’s best discover
An artefact, buried, hidden, within your soul
Just clear your problems
Try and solve them
And you’ll be whole

“Sometimes, Conor,
You talk too much
And talk too little”

Do you understand?

I was driving down I-85 when all of a sudden I got stunned by a view over a bridge and nearly slammed into a feline leaning against the railing, lost in the view. Lordy, my engine shut down real quick. Neither of us were damaged, but rather impacted. I said my goodbye with an apology tagged along and whent on my way home. Every day i drive that strip, seeing the view, passing by my old friend. Never again did we collide. Every time i passed by, my engine stalled. I wanted so badly to honk, swerve, pull over and talk, anything.
     Yet i kept on driving.

Anxiety is not beautiful-
Nor is it cute.

Shyness is not adorable-
Nor is it sweet.

These traits are often mis-defined.
Media and society contorting their meaning.

Anxiety is the feeling of a child;
Left alone in a dark, mysterious forest.
The shadows of the trees crushing your chest,
Reaching inside to suffocate your heart.

You try to stay calm on the outside;
To not startle or worry others.
Afraid of what they'll think, or say.
So your insides become a tornado;
Swallowing up the last of your oxygen.

You feel as if you could die.
Left to suffer with no one to help.
When you feel you've found someone who relates,
They turn around and destroy your last being.
They take your sliver of hope for happiness,
And toss it into the darkest depths.

Sinking slowly until the darkness engulfs you whole.
Clutching your heart,
Trying to beat-
Trying to live with the pressure of death.

You gasp your last breath,
Then begin to realize you weren't meant to live.
You were a defect that was meant to be destroyed.
Until that person comes back and pulls you free.
Only to have them through you back.
Back into that abyss where you belong.
So they can watch you suffer and laugh.

Why would they do this?
You thought they were like you.
But you've only learned that no one is like you.
No one feels your pain.
And you will always be left to fight alone.

Anxiety is terrifying-
It's a murderer trapped inside.

Shyness is disgusting-
It's suffocating in a plastic bag.

These things are living hell.
A hell that cannot be understood.

i know we don't speak.
and maybe that's because i'm too shy to say hello.
yet, everyday as you make your way into the room
i light up inside.
i wish i could walk up to you and just talk to you the way i've done so in my head.
but i can't.
i'm terrified of being disappointed.
what if i don't like you? what if you don't like me?
so for now i'll just be in the corner wondering what you think of,
and hoping that it's me.

{d.f. | 05/08/16}

I'm a socially awkward person
Who comfortably pretends not to be;
My friendships are so spotty, I'd be dotty
To delude any of them not to be!
Although, its true, I have no foe,
But who would be my friend?
My silence is my shelter,
When the chaos never ends.