Sigh.... Is very broken.. Talk to me at your own risk.. In the beginning there was no one here with me, then all of the sudden everyone rushed to my side and I wasn't alone anymore. But now, I'm standing here looking around at everything and I wish that no one had approached me. They all left! The left me alone when I was in most need of them standing by me. I wouldn't have mattered if they'd said nothing, I wouldn't have become so torn up inside if only they had remained and held my hand or let me know that I didn't have to be afraid. But I'm looking around--I realize I should have built these walls sooner, so much sooner. I didn't used to think that anything could hurt this much--I thought that pain could only be physical. I thought that hurt feelings could always be absolved with a hug and gentle kiss, a "sorry" used to take away all the pains and aches that even my mind bore. I used to have the world in my small palm. I could have anything under the stars and I refused the things I should have wanted. I should have asked for the toys and the clothes--I should have never asked for a family or a heart that worked like it should. I should have been different--it would have spared me so many hurts, so many cuts, so many "I can'ts." Why couldn't I have wanted the things that can be fixed, the things so many people can easily repair with their own two hands? Why did I want the things that couldn't be healed, the things that I shouldn't have understood?

The lonely boy stands there, Among the crowd of people. Awkward and full of nerves. Anxious. Can't breathe normally. Palms becoming sweaty. Face feeling hot with shame. Fidgeting with his hair, Nails, Fingers, Glasses, Clothing. Grasping his pendant, Holding it, Switching hands. His hand, Moving up the side of his arm, And back. His fingers, Following his clavicle up, And down. Over,  And over, And over, To be sure he is still there. He is out of place. Beyond uncomfortable. Afraid of what they may be thinking. Aware of everyone around him, Checking to see who is looking. Who is talking? Are they speaking of him? What are they saying? Is there something wrong? Did he do something? Perhaps he doesn't look quite right? Is he presentable? Is his outfit acceptable? Is it averting eyes from what he is hiding? Do they know? He is so conscious of others; He knows he is invisible to them. He knows he doesn't matter; Doesn't make a difference, Or turn a head, Or shift a gaze, He knows no one would bother... But he can't help doubting, Despite the facts; Can't help thinking everyone knows his secret. He's not sure they do. But, at the same time, He is so sure they do. They know. They all do. Everyone knows. They're talking, Thinking. They know! He can hear them; Read it in their eyes if not their words: Disgrace. Wretch. Loser. Trash. Unworthy of love. Disappear. Die. Go away. Waste of space, And nourishment. He knows he is shameful. He is a bad boy; Undeserving of life. He hides. Chin down. Stares at his feet, His fidgeting hands, And fingers. Trying to look busy, Un-bothered. Pointless. Everyone knows. No one will ever NOT know!

~ Fake Plastic Smiles ~ With fake plastic smiles we go through this life, Hidding from others our pain and our strife. Worry and fear we wish not to cause; But to show our happiness and hide our flaws. I wear this fake smile as I go through each day, For my sadness to others I need not to pay. To whine to others of sorrow I'll not, All these years it is happiness I've sought. To speak of my pain will make it more real. That is something I want not to feel. So for this reason, this smile I wear; It make it much easier for me to bear.

~ Merciless Disease ~ I am sick. Termanally and fataly ill. An oozing wound deep within my corpse, Seeping into my veins. Its main target: My mind, my heart. The horrible disease rots through my core; Melting my very being. Layers of infection coat my thoughts, Distorting them. Now it reaches my soul; Coruppting it under its menacing touch, Slowly ripping my spirit to shreds. This virus eats me from the inside out, Taking me down, Adding, one by one, Fear, doubt, mistrust, Until I am roughthlessly shattered With a final blow of seclusion. Its work is done... I am alone. I am unwanted.