Special: I hate this

I want to drop out of college.
I hate it.
I hate the pencils on the paper with the facts I won't remember
I hate the feel of the too-focused minds, empty of themselves
I hate sitting down at a table and people making polite excuses to leave, one by one
nobody considering anybody else human.

I hate it here.

I really, really hate it.

I want to run away.
Get away.
Now.

I want to flee away from here
and who would notice? Who would care?

I don't care about these facts
the papers I'm supposed to write,
the math that I'm supposed to be studying
I really don't.

My fingers
want to make the pain in my heart stop
they want to make new people, places, words, ideas
they want to give me the wings I promised you
they want to make it stop
to make it stop
to make it stop.

And I can't.

Some people say when they are angry
they just don't care
well I care too much, too much
it surrounds me, and it's drowning me
and I feel like I'm running out of time
to change into the empty ones
that walk the clean and tiled halls.

I don't know what to do.

Being lonely is killing me,
really killing me.

I hate it. I hate myself,
I hate feeling different
I hate that nobody notices a girl crying her eyes out in the lobby,
flipping through classes she doesn't care enough to sign up for.

I want to wrap my arms around myself
and be comforted
but it doesn't work that way, not for me
not for the mermaid on the land
I'm drowing from the air in my lungs
and no one will drag me back to sea;
they like to watch me struggle, watch me die and watch me wither
wither like the sun in Winter, losing all his heat

I feel so alone.

Everyone says that.
Everyone, everyone says that
but you don't know what it means like I do
you will never feel it like I do.

I'm tired of people telling me to grow up
I'm sick of it, entirely sick of it
because I am grown up
I was grown
before you walked into yourself by accident
and I knew myself
when I took my first steps.

I'm tired of being alone,
but I know that change can't help me
I've tried so many times and it fails, it always fails
and my heart is broken.

How do I convey that to you?
Broken.
Destroyed. 
Dying.  
No longer stitched together.

People roll their eyes at me for saying that
especially when I use the language in my heart
but I am not wrong, I am not overly dramatic in this
weren't you listening?
I know MYSELF.

I'm alone.
I'm alone and the world doesn't care.

And when I say to people,
"What should I do?" Please help me.
"Grow up. That's how life works."

That is not, is never how
you should fix my broken heart
all I want is a little compassion
the kind I would give you

I sit at night with my hands on my knees
trying to sleep away my agony
fighting off the feeling that I'm sick, despite having not eaten
and my heart is killing--

No.

No, I must not forget--
it is not my heart, not my soul that's killing me.

You, all of you, have promised so many times
have sworn on bended knee
with the stench of truth on your lips
that is not me that is wrong here.

No, no sir.

You know what that means?

Me feeling like this?
It's your fault. Yours. Not mine.
I accepted you from the moment that we met, and you have not accepted me.

Stir your coffee with a smile, and I'll sob in this stupid plastic chair
I'll wither in a web of your anger
I'll weep in the locks of your hair

and you'll walk away.





My pain
is not my fault.













The funny thing is?



It's still there.