Untitled (Not A Song)

I really was scared.

(the girls would be so pretty and
i'd just be there)

Oh, my friends left me at the altar.
(i wasn't really getting married)
Now, they look at me
so differently.

I'm not who I seem.
(i can't help but ask)
What do you see?

[instrumental]

You have to tell me if
I'm doing it right.
(don't leave me, not yet)

I hate that I still think of
all the things they said to me;
slaps made of insults
that wore the disguise of friendship
sometimes shedding it for disgust
that covered jealousy
year after year,
what makes a friend?

I'm so scared of these things.
(what if you don't like what you see?)

I could end up alone.

Ah, that’s what it always comes down to.
(i’d like to say it’s something more)
but, nothing profound,
to be seen,
just this simple thing.

I can love myself all I want,
but, there is something I cannot give
to myself (to me) companionship is rare.

This turned into a lovesick poem.
(that’s not what it’s meant to be)
In all senses of the word
 "being alone"
is about atrophy.
Without muse, without sound;
blind, in the dark, nowhere to be found;
everything is tasteless with no one to share;
my body is starved for touch; nose to the ground-

for what, I'm not sure,
but it makes me think,
who do I want to be? (Screw fate.)

I will craft a body from ripe avocados and anxiety.
Words spin my soul, a spinning wheel,
I will write as many papers as it takes
to get to my doctorate degree (or whatever it will be)
I am my own goddess and I will create my own work of art.
Starting with nothing, I will end with everything. (Screw fate.)

One day, I won’t be scared.

[dramatic fade out]