10/10/03
Just something I started writing after listening to another one of my ex-friend's spiels.

Believing the Half-Truths

A harsh word spoken
my chest tightens

I am weak.

A voice raises
my eyes fill with tears

I am weak.

I speak a hello
it is not heard

I am nothing.

I smile shyly at a passing friend
it is not seen

I am nothing.

Stabbed in the back by a close friend
my eyes fill with salty tears

I am pitiful.

A few months of romance is shattered
my body convulses in sobs

I am pitiful.

I eagerly join in the sport
others give me strange looks

I am rejected.

I speak my opinion
it is proved wrong

I am rejected.

I tell my friend my interests
she does not like them and rejects them

I am not normal.

I enjoy the blood running down my arm
not like the others that gaze away from it

I am not normal.

A hand reaches out to me
I do not miss the glint in their eyes

I reject it.

A smile is aimed at me
there is a certain curve to their lips that tell a different story

I reject it.

A nice boy smiles and greets me
I grin falsely

And I miss it.

I compliment is freely given with twinkling eyes
I blush shyly

And I miss it.

Familiar with taunts, jokes
I do not miss them
Instead I bear them
and cry.
Proving myself truly weak.

Unfamiliar compliments are giving, hands reaching out in kindness
It flies over my head
And I miss the signals.

So I find myself in my self-exiled loneliness
Because I've grown too use to the pain
to recognize my own tourniquet.

It is my fault
because I am many things,
needy
nothing
stupid
ignorant
misunderstood
and weak.

Always and forever
Because that is what I am.
I can not change who I am.

I am the magnitude of weakness.