Elucidating Questions

My moments alone are spent contemplating the pain

Why it’s there

For what reason

Why I have to suffer through it

And listen to people in far better positions than I

Complain about their problems

When it’s bad I don’t want to be empathetic

I don’t want to share all your tiny little problems my life is a problem

I wish I could make you feel how I feel for a second so you could comprehend

Tired

And pain

And “not feeling well”

I wish there was a pill you could take to feel what I feel for a moment so the next time I say

It hurts

You’d realise it’s not just what I said that hurts

So when I say

I’m tired

You’d know how hard I had to work to get out of bed today

How difficult clawing my way through the day is

Contemplating the pain

Doesn’t make it go away

Happy Thanksgiving

I miss the idea of you

I miss the idea of this day meaning anything

It hasn’t meant a thing for so long I forgot it existed

Happy Thanksgiving

I’m sure you’re happy with her and your

Menagerie

My own are happy so that’s what matters

My own feelings not withstanding

I miss the idea that days would have meant more with you

But as it is my destiny seems to be living in pain and poverty

At least it sounds like a catchy novel title

Pain and Poverty

Happy Thanksgiving

I’m going to work

And I hurt

And I wish I wasn’t

Sometimes I feel like it’s my own fault I get abused

People keep telling me I have a victim complex but the truth is

It’s my fault anyways isn’t it?

It’s my fault anyways

I can’t be the victim if I was the cause

It’s my fault people hurt me

It’s my fault people spread lies about me

It’s my fault people harm me

I just don’t know how to take responsibility for causing my own pain

Don’t know how to fix it

I’m just me

I don’t know what’s wrong with me no one ever says what is wrong with me they just throw me into doors and whisper lies about me and try to smother me with a pillow

What did I do?

I need to know what I did or I can’t interact with other people anymore

I don’t want to make them hurt me

Don’t want to turn good people bad

Don’t want to cause a light to go out

I’ll just keep to myself

Maybe it’s safer that way for everyone

Do you ever just get the feeling like

You’re not human?

Like maybe you’re a genetic anomaly that doesn’t qualify as human

Like maybe you’re a robot that just pretends to be human

Like maybe the humans don’t speak the same language as you do and that’s why they don’t understand you

Like maybe you’re the first of your species and the last of your species

Because fuck reproducing in the human-suit

They’re not like me

That song by Phil Collins

Yes, I want to know, please show me, these people are ridiculous!

But no they’re not strangers like me

They’re all so very unlike me

So terrifyingly unlike me that sometimes I stare in the mirror and stare and stare and try to be the person staring from behind the eyes in the reflection

In the reflection that isn’t me

How can I be in the same shape but entirely different?

You know how everyone’s God is different?

My god…

My god(s) is/are the only one(s) that understand(s) me

And I’m not even sure they exist

I feel so alone

The guinea pigs wait in anticipation for the sounds of the front door opening and closing

Ready and waiting to explode in a chorus of wheek wheek wheeks and running wildly in excitement

But the bunny does a quieter waiting,

A calmer waiting

A contemplative waiting

When I come home he approaches the pen door apprehensively, not certain I’m coming to let him out

The piggies wait for vegetables and hay to be brought and they sing magnificently for their supper

The bunny watches quietly, hinting subtly by being near the door that he wants freedom

I wonder how he feels all day closed away

How it must feel to be perpetually trapped

Knowing there is always a boarder

Does it make him feel defeated?

Like a human would feel defeated?

I know he feels something because when I let him out at the end of my day he bounds over and immediately hops to freedom

Sometimes he is extra excited and can’t keep himself still

I wish I could explain to him in plain English what he mustn’t do and let him be free at all times

He looks so magnificent when he’s free

I come home every day waiting to see him free

My relationship with music is a cluster fuck of deep confusion

I feel music

It radiates from within me

I am music

But why do I know where things go in songs I don’t know or where in the music the cue for the next line comes from?

Why do I know what goes there?

Why are all unfamiliar tracks familiar?

How do they whisper their secrets to me before they say them to me out loud?