I don’t know I want you but I’m scared. Afraid you might turn away and leave. And it will just make me feel like they like who they thought I was until they find out that I’m not worthy.

I’m terrified of rejection.

And my head hurts. My eyes drop tears and my nose running. My eyes bleed bloodshot and drops running down my face. I don’t feel it though. I don’t feel sad. Just tears running down my face. It’s just the eye getting irritated. Bring afraid to see the light. Afraid of looking at people. Afraid of what I might see. Afraid to see how you see me. I don’t listen anymore. Afraid of what might reach my heart and tear it open again. Leaving me in pieces. I am scared. And I repeat going over the same things over and over again and though I am not stuck am I inclined to be stuck? Am I putting this too many times on myself? Do I fight back everytime and pull myself back afterwards? If I can tell myself that I am not bound to be miserable, maybe I can escape into the unknown. And experience belonging. Acceptance. Love. Peace. This rocky volatile place is all I know. This chaos is besieging. And the pressure suffocates.

I don’t even feel pain anymore. Isolate me. Turn around and close your circle. Laugh and judge me at least I can’t see your mouth. I look around and all I see are your backs. I am alone. Facing you. But you don’t look my way. I am angry, but I am really just sad. I would cry but no one’s looking. Does a tree make a noise when it falls in a silent forest?

And when you look, I get scared. Do you see what I see? Do you see a loser, alone, scared, and static? With no friends. Not worth reaching out to. And when you reach out, I say No. Out of sheer stubborness. That I need your help but I don’t need you. Whatever pride I must have, when I actually have nothing. Just bluffing with an empty hand. If I take your hand. What does that mean. That I am a loser. That you see me and pity me and I don’t want your pity. This is the last bit of pride I have that I won’t let go. To take your hand. To receive your help. Because giving in means accepting the reality. The reality that seems so crooked and broken in my eyes. Because I cannot let go of what had been for what it is. I refuse to accept this. I refuse to be a loser. I refuse to be a lonely miserable child. I refuse to be powerless. It’s all my ego. The reality simply is that I am alone. No person calls me on weekends. No person has a steady tie with me. You look but I am scared. You looking at me is like me staring into the sun. It is blinding, irritating, and painful. So don’t look at me like I’m

The cost of being acceptable.

Am I acceptable? I don’t think so.

Because I am too different.

I am different.

I am child-like.

I am naive.

I am idealist.

I am emotional

I am sensitive.

I am honest.

I am pure hearted.

I am sympathetic.

I am considerate.

I am sensitive of others.

I am dependent.

I am stronger albeit just a little bit.

I am wiser and more insightful.

I am anxious.

I am intimidated.

I am scared.

I care about what other people think of me. Because I want to be good. I want their recognition. I want them to like me, because they define who I am.

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