Some Things

You say to yourself you don't want to deal with people, that you are better off being alone,
you misunderstand social cues and blame it on labels given to people like you, on your way of interacting, and abandon hope for connections.
But when anyone shows kindness to you, makes you feel wanted as a friend
it burns into your mind, engraves itself into your thought patterns
and you find yourself being scolded by an internal voice, telling you to relax and be normal.
But you can't stop thinking about it. About social connections and how dysfunctional you really are.
You ask yourself why you must be like this, and wish furiously to be like others who think nothing of this.
And you know that wishes like this can't be granted, that you must accept the way you are.
There's nothing wrong with me. I just function a little differently in some ways, that's all.
What kind words. Yet they often do little to console against the frustration.

Calm

Night contains me, helps hold back my tears.
I can feel the sky pressing, trying to remind me.
Day will break the dam, peerless blue just like it was before.
Never changing, always flowing.
I wander up the carpeted stairs, duck my head below the familiar ceiling.
Sobs generate heat, fill the dulled room with half raging sound.
If I could show this to the world, inflict their ears with this pain, then maybe someone would understand me. No, there are multitudes who could know, but I won’t--I don’t--let them.
Instead I carefully feed my hurt.
I picture her suicide attempt, berate myself for every little thing, pity how lonely I feel.
I could step into the morning sky, it’s frantic colors. I could weep for hours.
But night returns, and with it, calm.