These things I can’t explain

I really am astounded at how I’ve made it this far. I’ve been detached from reality every since I was a little girl. It’s a big world that I could never get a grasp on.

I watched people around me, and they all seem to be doing well. They knew how to speak to others, they knew how to react and be in accordance with the feelings stored within them.

The only thing I knew was how much I couldn’t do. Nothing came naturally to me, nothing I thought mattered to the world anyway. Nothing I could be good at indefinitely and call that my own, my own masterpiece that no one can take away from me, especially myself. But my memory never help me get along with the world. I needed that to progress in school and even to keep conversations going.

Why am I the way that I am? How do I live without regretting being a natural burden to the people I love and care about. How can they love and keep someone like me?

I don’t say these things to search for pity, I just say them to find a way to live with myself.

Everywhere that I am housed I tip toe around so that no one remembers that I am there, then maybe I could stay another night - maybe another year.

To be dead is scary, to be alive is painful but to sacrifice everyone around me due to reasons that are not my fault suffocates me.

I need help, I need a break it’s hard to swallow. I need a book and a story to make me feel I am not delusional. Come to me in waves and break my bread in haste, I want to know if my life is allowed here or if it’s just a waste.

One of my deepest darkest fear, is working with a company and have them fall apart because of a couple mistakes I made.

I lied to myself when I told her that I was capable, that all I needed was to try harder and study in different ways to get my brain working. I lied to her, her, myself.

I was too optimistic. Optimism works for people who are actually capable of something after a couple tries, what happens to those of us that are still trying after 3000000000000000000000000 times?

Everyone expects something for something and there is nothing wrong with that, but when you can’t give back the right and equal value, you live a life hidden inside yourself.

I am deaf in one ear, I look around so often I overwhelm myself. Just to make sure I am never in the way, so I don’t have to apologise, because whenever I do, I remember how little value I have.

It’s a sorry existence, but sometimes it’s beautiful too. I am a lot nicer and more understanding because I know I will never be good at anything.

I became so invisible, I started to like the colour black. Nobody saw me anyway, when I use to stand out. But I understand that someday I should turn back to colours, I should keep breathing, I should take the awful way that I am treated and turn it into words.

When I hear the footsteps of those that let me inside their home, I stop breathing hoping they won’t notice I am there, and when I am found out, my heart would race. I would secretly beg for the conversation to be over so that I could go back to hiding.

I am so grateful for all the things that I do have, but no one will ever understand how much it hurts me, even if I eat less to take less and talk more of nothing in order to hide the truth.

I can do all things that disappear in a blink.

I can take very little and you will say I should give more. I can give a lot and you will reduce it to a mere mice. All of this just makes me sadder, but perhaps a little wise.