i am the one no one notices.
i am the one that doesn't matter.
They only remember me because i share a name
with another girl.
i am the quiet one.
i keep my mouth shut
because there's no point in saying words
no one wants to hear.
i am the one who is unwanted.
The one who is
pushed to the side,
unimportant,
unseen.
i am the one who fades from your mind when
i fade from your sight.
i am the one who is alone.
i am the only one who doesn't fit in
doesn't feel like she can
trust her "friends".
i am
the one who sees things others can't.
Ghosts,
angles,
faeries.
Schizophrenic? Well, actually...
And depressed? You decide.
i am the outsider. Maybe
i am the one who is a ghost.
Maybe.
i am the one no one bothers
to talk to.
What do they all have that
i don't?
i am the one who
will not speak
because no one will listen
so i write,
write it all,
even though no one will read
anything.
Ever.
i am the only one who is invisible.
i wonder if, when people ask
"How are you?"
And if i said
"Terrible"
how many of them would care or
want to know more
because no one
knows me.
At all.
i see everyone but
no one sees me
or wants me.
What did i expect?
i'm just me, nothing special.
Just me.
i hear their laughter.
What's so funny?
me, probably, i want
to be wanted
to feel wanted
to feel anything except
numb.
Feel anything.
i want a lot of thing because
i am selfish. i wish i were selfless,
but then people would walk all over me. i pretend
everything's fine. i am the one
who lies about her true feelings
because
no one really, actually cares,
at least not at school. i am the one
whose feet don't touch the ground,
never, ever, ever
if they did, they would slow me down
but i just want to
get home
to where i am safe. i am the
one who only feels at home when
the troublesome middle child
isn't there
or isn't bothering anyone.
i feel nothing. i feel
numb
unless i am sad,
then
i feel my heart
constrict
and i try not to cry, because i
bottle everything up
every time something bad happens,
then finally, with
one more thing,
i
explode.
overflow.
bam.
i am the one who will now only tell someone
who i like
if i
trust them with my life.
And there aren't many of them.
i cry tears to myself
in my head
because only their problems are
relevant,
and their life is so much more worse than
mine.
uh huh, whatever.
My tears are reserved
for the few
who know me, the
few who care. If i am tired,
i vanish.
because if i don't make a sound, then
i don't exist.
i am the one who doesn't matter,
doesn't deserve a capital "i".
i believe in magic and faeries
and ghosts and goblins
and hope
one of them will whisk me away into a book.
i understand why i read books. i
read to escape my life. i understand
i am the one who s
has a dark side that
no one wants to see.
i am the one who says
nothing
and when i do,
i will count the words i say aloud,
and limit myself to 100 words,
then 50,
then 25, and see if
anyone notices. Me, i dream
about a boy
just like any other girl would,
because everyone needs someone...
everyone but me, they think.
They think
i am the one who needs no one,
because to them, i am no one.
i hope not.
Sometimes.
i hope the world can save itself
from the monster it has become, and i
am the one who is at its heart.
Save me from myself, i beg you.
Who am i?
i am no one
who are you?