"My attachments don't run deep."
Was what I said to her.
Was it a call out,
or a dare,
I can't figure.
Never held attachments
besides family
close.
There were those who came close,
but then left,
leaving me
in a tighter shell.
A recluse,
who seeks a deeper meaning to life.
All I wanted,
was someone to want my company,
and encourage me to be better.
Each time I think its her,
or
him,
just like always,
they leave me wondering,
if it was me or them.
These attachments,
were close,
I figure,
once upon a time.
Then I realised,
they weren't close enough to weep for,
nor ache for.
When I disappear,
or am in a state of mess,
there was naught they did,
didn't notice,
or couldn't be bothered,
having deeper attachments of their own,
not family,
just like me,
but one who obviously means more,
than I could ever be.
Was it me then?
I've always known it to be me.
Couldn't keep anyone staying,
Couldn't keep anyone caring.
Aloof,
I became.
Nice,
I've been told.
Funny,
I could be.
A *****,
I try not.
Weird certainly.
Always tried being nice though,
"do unto others what you want done unto you",
never it worked,
maybe I'm inconsistent,
or maybe,
just not worth it.
When I watched,
them in their environment,
having fun,
being themselves,
being loved and accepted by many,
I knew there was no place for me.
Away,
in a corner,
alone,
I always was,
not because I wanted the solitude.
But it was the most comfortable I could be,
neither trying like a fool,
nor licking my merciless wounds.
I certainly kept trying,
maybe not hard enough,
but I hope,
maybe just one day,
I'll be good enough,
then maybe,
someone,
anyone,
would start caring.
Pathetic really*.