Sometimes I like to think
that I'm Mr. Invisible.
Mr. Nobody Knows Who I Am
And that's a comforting thought.
No one knows my volatile thoughts.
The way my mind take me on train rides that I don't
Remember buying tickets for
Does she hate me?
My dad's gonna die today
I'm never gonna make it
Do I hate me?
Of course I do.
No I don't.
You lazy sack of shit
Overthinking after overthinking until I overthink myself right
into the Game Over screen.
I like to think
I'm just on the sidelines
Idly standing by
The ultimate form of
People-watching.
Never making a peep.
But how can I be Mr. Invisible?
When I think of all the waves I've caused
I panic
When I realize how much of a fucking catalyst I am
I panic
When I realize that my whole life goal is to be in the middle of the fucking spotlight
I panic
I don't want to be known.
I don't want to have an affect on people.
I don't want this.
I don't want this.
I don't want this.
I don't want to be the reason that she barely had the energy to get out of bed for 6 months.
I don't want to be the reason that your life has improved so much since we've met those few short months ago.
I don't want to be the reason my dad comes out of his episodes.
I don't want to be.
I want to be invisible.
It's already been made impossible a long time ago.
Two big, seperate portions of my life were combined into one and printed into unerasable words written in ink made of painful memories and spread across the world for $10 a pop.
I never asked for that.
I never asked for part of me to be put on display for people who would never realize it's about some insomniac kid in New Mexico who thinks too much about the past and not enough about the future and never about the present.
This whole damn writing poem thing whatever the fuck it is,
it's the product of a volatile mind with not enough sleep and too much time on his hands at 7:23 am.
"violent mind, violet sky."
if there's one thing she got right,
it's that.
I take comfort in that
She doesn't know me anymore.
And I don't know her.
We're not the same.
And that's good.
We were both pieces of shit.
I wish the best for her, she's gone through a lot of shit and deserves to be happy.
And I hope he provides that for her.
I hope I provide that for you.
You've gone through a lot of shit and deserve to be happy.
I feel like such a selfish fucking cunt when I feel upset.
I know people who have been abused, sent to a damn mental hospital, attempted suicide, COMMITTED suicide, raped, beaten, imprisoned, had their fucking parents murdered in front of them, wake up fucking crying because they had bad dreams of some real fucked up shit
I haven't gone through shit. I've had an easy fucking life and it's fucking bullshit for me to complain about it.
It's bullshit, it's all bullshit.
I'm bullshit.
I just want to be able to say hi to someone
without changing their life.
