Dumb Human

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just going through some things.

Submitted: August 23, 2012

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Submitted: August 23, 2012

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I can’t tell how I feel most of the time.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not an emotionless bitch.
I can tell when I need to burst out in tears, or punch someone directly in the nose, or when it’s appropriate to jump for joy and excitement, but if you asked me how I felt right this second… I couldn’t tell you.
I don’t understand it, and I can’t say that I love the feelings that I don’t have, but I tolerate it, at least.
It’s useful sometimes.
The times when I would like to show absolutely no emotion on my face.
The times when people think that I should be feeling sad or angry.
I can smile.
Yes, it may be fake, but it seems real to them because I have no real emotion behind my expressions.
It’s just a perfectly fake smile that can fool anyone.
“I’m absolutely fine,” I lie, over and over and over again, that grin spreading across my face to reassure them that absolutely nothing is wrong with me.
It’ll hit me later, whatever happened.
But, the moments when I’m convincing my friends and family otherwise, it’s perfect to have no feeling inside me.
When I’m sitting alone, however, and I can’t understand anything that’s going on inside, and my hands are shaking from random anxiety, it just feels like there’s a huge black hole taking over my entire body.
I can’t tell how I feel most of the time.
But if you asked me how I felt now, I’d tell you that I want to die, because I ruin everything with all the things I lack and could never gain, even if I wanted to.
I’d tell you that I’m not good enough for anything, or anyone, and that I’d rather end up alone than drag anyone down with me.
I’d tell you that I have the worst anxiety, and that my thoughts tend to consist of people leaving me and being completely disgusted by me, just like in my dreams…nightmares.
I’d tell you that, everyday, I fake a smile, at some point in the day, and that, every single day, I go home and cry in the smallest corner of my room because I’m starting to lose everything I love.
I can’t understand how I don’t feel the pain until later, until after it’s too late to show everyone that, yes, I actually do care about what’s happening to the ones I love.
I can’t understand, and, therefore, I will lose everything I love.
And I will die-
Inside and out.
 


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