Overwhelmed

I say that I know certain things shouldn't matter anymore, that I don't care. But sometimes I just get overwhelmed by everything and I wish I had some of the more insignificant comforts to fall back on. Today is one of those days. I just wish there was someone that I could really tell everything. I don't think such a person truly exists, though.

This is a not-so-great poem I wrote today. I thought I would share.

You ask what is wrong and I

want to answer, freely, openly.

The answer, though, is too long,

too real to tell. I know that

you will not really care to hear it.

You do not really want to know

that I feel I am not good enough.

You have no desire to listen to

me say that I feel that there is

no one who really understands.

It is too cliché, too much of an

excuse for me to really feel.

Still, I want to tell you

everything.

Instead I keep my worries, my

insecurities to myself. They build

and build until I can no longer

stand them. I break down, unable

to resist any longer, but there is

still no one to listen.