Draft #2 My hands shake as I grip the paper. In. Out. In. Out. Count to ten. That’s what they all say. But really, Have you ever been that person, The one who breaks into sobs at the lightest news, Who fumes furiously every time they lose, “Calm down, calm down.” is all they say. Why can’t these wretched feelings just… go away? I wipe my tears, I flash a smile. “I’m fine,” I say, lying while my brain turns my emotions into a battlefield. My friend walks over, which appeals my sadness, who lets it all go, As I sob into her shoulder, because she could know. She’s the one who understands, The problem solver, the helping hand, She puts broken things back together, While my mere presence worsens the weather. The quick-wit student, the golden child, That’s what she is. I’m just wild. Un-obeying. Such a mess. My father says, meanwhile my stress Amplifies itself in my head. Worse and worse, ‘I’d rather be dead. My thoughts become much of a darker kind, And I start to hate myself, hate this mind. Hate my face, hate my clothes, Even my handwriting? Now I loathe Everything about myself. And even when I cry for help, Nobody even cares to turn around, Even when my self-hatred has pinned me down. Because this here is the real world, All peoples’ carelessness unfurled. Life is unfair. That’s all it is. Not “Life’s Good” and all that Shiz. In real life, nobody cares. The only things they care about are whatever seems to be theirs. And I don’t care if you look at me weird, Which is something that once I feared. Because I am me, and I am great. I am me, and I don’t hate A single thing about myself. At the moment, my mental health Is doing just fine, which is pretty good. But nobody has understood. And I still haven’t, because there’s just one thing, Which when I think about, confusion brings. Who am I? I don’t know.
