No One’s Around
I wonder if anyone actually likes me.
I don’t know; I can’t tell.
I don’t feel it at all. Like there’s nothing;
Like I can’t connect with anyone.
You can all leave, and so can I.
It won’t mean anything anyway.
We could never see each other again…
But it seems love is only a place in my mind;
It’s an ideal—something I never reach.
So I’ll just run into the night and never come back,
And it won’t matter at all. Everyone will move on,
Will forget, will pretend they knew me, or didn’t.
Honestly, I want it—this beautiful love; I feel it
And imagine it, and it always falls short;
It always leaves me empty—like acting on my desires was
A mistake. I want it but can’t have it, and I can’t let go it either.
I wish I knew no one;
And I wish no one knew me;
I wish I had someone;
I wish I felt something, anything at all.
This story is part of a collection of poems, short stories and introspective diary entries, called “Grimoire of a Weird Person II”.