Obnoxious buzzing rings through my sleep-deprived head, like usual.
I get up, get changed, don’t bother to eat.
Once again, like usual.
Every day, the same routine,
Go to school, fake emotions, learn useless stuff,
Go home, procrastinate, dive under the blanket and enter the void of sleep.
It makes me feel like a stupid robot
Who can’t do good, no matter how hard she tries.
At this point, the only thing keeping me alive
Is a dog who’s going to die in 7 years,
A goat who’s probably been sold and eaten,
And four mutts who will die in the next 3 years.
Sometimes I wonder why I even bother trying.
I hate having to hide behind a mask,
To hide my true self behind someone who’s not me.
A probably depressed insomniac Autist, hidden by a neurotypical extrovert.
Because the real me is labeled as ‘socially unacceptable’
While the fake me is apparently a ‘good person’.
When I show my true self,
I feel like ending it, right there, right then.
Because nobody accepts the mess I am.
They tell me it’s hormones,
Or it’s not really what I think it is,
Or I’m just faking it for attention.
I want to tell them it’s not that,
I try to tell them it’s not that,
But the feelings I abandoned years ago
Come flooding back as my broken soul cracks even more.
Oh jeez, I’m sorry, I’m rambling again, aren’t I?
I mutter and type as I sit at this desk,
In a classroom too bright for my sore, tired eyes.
Nervously nibbling at my too-short fingernails
And shuddering even though it isn’t that cold.
Rubbing my already half-closed eyes,
I sigh and wrap up this long mess of words.
Wrote this for English class. It's really more of a vent than a poem tbh.