I walk through those empty doors, waiting to be greeted but they never come. Sit alone inside my misery waiting for a hand to lead me out but it never comes. When will I figure it out, when will I stop fighting myself, stop fighting the truth. I know it deep down even though I still can’t admit it. Fighting the facts hoping for better and waiting for it to come along. Someone has to be out there, somewhere, somehow, they’ll find me! Torn waiting in a room full of people as if I’m not there, afraid from the biases of society and social barriers. Stand up I tell myself, but the fear just looms overhead waiting to smack me back down. Taunting me waiting for a mis-step, a chance to humiliate and crush. The chances come far to often and the pain just get duller with each time. Crushing blows that you’ll never feel, like crushing a finger that has no feeling, watch it happen but still you feel nothing. Yes, you’ve been here to many times before felt the pain to many times before, that it no longer has a feeling. Lost in confusion of what has been said yet focused on why you feel nothing anymore. Unable to focus on any one point because they all perplex you, astounded by the masses and misunderstood. Mixed up wanting what the rest has but unsure of what it is or why you want it. Like leading the blind by the blind, with no insight into the same pain they feel. The rejection they already know while everyone walks around wanting to be them and yet they walk around wanting to be those that want to be them. An endless cycle of self pity and unclear desires with confusion wide spread and no clear points to grasp.
