Be noticed...

I want to be noticed,
but at the same time to hide.
I don't want to be lonely,
but also want to be left alone.
I think I am humble,
but have often to fight with my pride,
I think I am meek,
but I can endlessly cry out in loud to be heard,
                alone
                in my bed
                with windows wide open,
                until my voice is just
                gone.
I want things to happen,
but only on my own terms.
Thus, at the end, nothing happens at all.

I need my time and I don't need to be told.
Oh, I am a truly spoiled brat
                with a soul of a youth.

I waste time on fakeries of happiness,
like an endless consuming of all sort of goods.
I call it shopping, but it is really just
                piles
                upon
                piles
                of useless stuff.
I know all I need is to love
                and be loved,
                but mutuality is so rare...

Romantic love is a thing I will probably never have,
because I am stubborn on conditioning
                and sorting
                and categorizing
                and pushing people around me
                away.
So then I cherish and feed the only thing that's left
                - my despair.
 
In order to be numb I stuff myself with stuffed toys and fake amends.
More things - less feelings,
less feelings - less pain,
less pain - less live.
Sometimes it feels like I lost all the ability to feel
                or know the truth.

Freedom is the true essence of my existence,
and I am slowly loosing it by giving up this blindfolded fight.

 
P. S. Maybe that is why I like to dwell and to write about sick people and battles.

___________________________________
 
Here we go again, I wanted to write a poem, but instead got a confession booth prose...


16.10.20