But do you really care?
When I answer truthfully I scare you off.
Is it my honestly?
My pathetic excitement and curiosity in my own life?
You shut me down and criticize me for answering the way I did.
(Whatever that was)
So I am conditioned to not open up.
I close myself off to you.
This pattern cycles around in circles like the seasons.
I begin to think
“What if you are right?”
and I really have palty aspirations
that don’t offer anything to anyone,
that I’m not valuable,
that me being on Earth and me not existing wouldn’t make a difference to you, or anyone.
If anything, it would be less of a hassle if there was less of me..
So why do you ask how I’m doing?
Sorry for the depressing ass shit lately. It’s a phase I’m going through, hopefully. Luckily, I’m remembering how therapeutic writing poetry is for me…you reading this probably understand