Debilitating Strength

You knew I was looking at you. You recognized the inquiring eyes, the tentative gestures. I was always that easy to read.

(How it takes so much out of you to try and pretend to be someone else you are just not…)

I was trying to understand the room I was in but felt inevitably overwhelmed. All those people talking, drinking, and talking about sex, drugs and drinking.

(How do you get away from a place you are so yearning to be a part of…?)

I felt like speaking up however I always had this stupid sense I was better in a quiet stance. I just stood there, observing everyone. People who came, people who left.

(How do you bring yourself to stay away and become senseless…?)

Friends talked to me, strangers joked around. All action required a response and all I wanted was to not act upon it. I wanted to stay away. I wanted to say no because everything seemed so fucking much to take in.

(How do you silence the self-doubt within and start to accept what you bring to the table?)

And I looked back at you. Your eyes were still fixated on me. It all felt familiar and yet, I didn’t want to let it all out. And then, I looked away again.

It was a game. And how well did we know it… And how well did we fucking play it.

(How can we look each other in the eyes and still imply with our looks we mean nothing?)

Life gives me whiplash.

All my feelings feel silly to me and still, they are the only thing keeping me true to myself. Without them, I would be an empty shell, rolling through this damned Earth and floating in the ocean… simply fulfilling its role, whatever it may be.

(How am I supposed to carry on?)

I have a strength that supposedly makes me weak. And sometimes I believe it does.

I will try to overcome myself in that sense. ‘Til then I will just be weak.

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