sometimes i feel like people think they get me
but they don’t get get me
like they believe the sarcasm is true
that the self hatred and self indulgence is false
my calls for help are cries for attention
i like talking to people
but i mostly can’t stand people
a people person that dislikes people is a conundrum in it’s self
but it is me
i search for love from thinking it will plug the hole in the deck of the ship
like it will magically right the course
and it does
for a bit
and then the voices come back
and they whisper evil things
and i tell myself
don’t listen
they’re crazy
you’re fine
but they are pervasive
weaseling their way into the quiet moments
and eventually
i’m like
i’ll hear what you have to say
but this is the last time
and they are convincing
my will breaks
and then someone laughs at something serious because i framed it like a joke
and i begin to see they think i’m the joke
then the voices pounce
what did we tell you
if you had just listened
why would we lie
we’d never laugh at you
this is dead serious
and i fall into the spiral again
suddenly everything is wrong
the paranoia
the self defeatist attitude crawls out
it’s why i like to write
anonymously as possible when i spill my guts and use my name and attach my email address
so as anonymously as you can be while standing on the corner with your chest open and heart exposed and a small pin that says pay no attention to the poet behind the curtain
i lost where i was going
something something her
love
mania
depression
loss
like a madlibs or choose your adventure
fill in the blanks yourself
then when you decide it is funny you can laugh
or if it is sad it is your sadness
not mine
those are depths you are not prepared to plumb
you probably just shook your head
what does he know
nothing
but i would love to
i’m here
bored and spinning slowly down into the nether regions of life itself
i’d love to chat
or cuddle
maybe some kissing
nothing outright sexual
unless you’re down
this didn’t go where i expected but it seems to have found it’s way home
thanks for misreading
talk to you soon
if ever
As a side note… mad libs are fun. We should do some. I have a book of them sitting on my kitchen counter right now, I’ll go get them, hold on….
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Oh how I love this, every bit. It’s this juggle (struggle?) that we want to be seen and heard but don’t want to be recognized. Known anonymity.
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Exactly
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