When I was in the hospital
I was roomed with a schizophrenic
And she was the most gentle person I have ever met
There was a boy with a long deep slit across his neck
Who told very funny jokes
A girl who never spoke a word
Would draw the most beautiful pictures
The boy who shook with anxiety
Could hold the most intelligent conversations
Even the girl who screamed in her sleep and picked at her skin
Had a heart the size of the ocean
We are not who you think we are
I’m so average it hurts.
Like a star that realized there were a billion more just like her.
They should have told us all we wouldn’t amount to anything.
That way we wouldn’t be disappointed when we didn’t.
What’s the point in trying?
I feel those slow, sneaking tendrils of apathy slither up my legs and surround my arms and head.
I sit still in my sloth and sense the lethargy shutting my eyes.
I’m sluggish and my mind goes slack.
I’ve struggled and scuffled, and I’m beginning to stray from myself.