Mismatched.

Laughter from outside tingles my skin
Trapped in apathy and shivering from the cold
but disgusted

I count my days with scratches
On the wall, with my nails, months old
As predicted.
-------------------------------------------

I want to feel like I don’t belong and have the privilege not to care.

Such are the precious moments and minutes to pass, wielding fluxes of apathy, and then worry, and then nausea, and then dejection, and then disgust, and then awe, and then shit. Purity and insanity are not so different, did you know? But the drive won’t go away. It streams like a onewayhighway and pushes everything out of its path. What do they call it these days? Ambition. Competitiveness. Idealism. Whatever. Keepgoingkeepgoingkeepgoing. Like a mantra.
[I hear laughter outside this room. It is disturbingly noisy.]

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life trying to feel like I belong. There are moments for that and they should not prevail. There are moments to persevere and there are moments to quit.
[poor spoilt little girl… thought she’d always be okay no matter what]
Shutup shutup shutup.
I am so misunderstood.