To everyone that I’m fooling by pretending I’m okay,
I’m not okay. I’m tired. I’m tired of getting up every morning, and putting on a new face to hide my own from the rest of the world. I’m tired of being stepped on, walked over, and passed by like I don’t matter to you or anyone else. I’m tired of listening to the same stories every day about how life is terrible. You confide in me your every secret, saying that I wouldn’t understand anyway, when in fact, I probably understand better than everyone else.
I get in your head before you can get in mine, twist your thoughts around so that we can go through all of your pinpointed problems, your drama. I don’t want you to know what makes me tick, so we can just keep talking about what makes you tick. We keep talking about what is in your head, and I give you advice that I would be better off taking myself.
You call me a slut, an wreak of emotional distress. A liar. And I will sit here. And I will listen. And I will promise that I will be better. Because in this world, I’m the one that’s always wrong. I’m the one that always causes the problems. I’m the one that needs to keep coming back to you when we fight, because I’m the one that started it, anyway.
I’m tired of pretending that I care about all of your problems. I’m tired of pretending like the things that you say don’t hurt me, don’t crush me. I’m tired of waking up in the morning, just to try at another fitful nights sleep. And I’m tired of you not noticing that all I really want is for someone to get in my head. Someone to figure out what makes me tick. Someone to ask me how I feel, rather than just assuming that I am an emotional robot. I want someone to grab me by the arms and let me cry out to them. I want someone to understand that I am broken, too. Understand that I’m not fixable. But I want someone to try.
Truth is, I’m lying. All I want is to wake up. Seek you out. Get in your head. Find out your problems. And avoid mine.
Truth is, I’m lying when I say everything is okay.