This is my Desire

Lit From Inside's picture

Every morning I wake up and find myself crying; all I want is for someone to understand me. I ask all my friends questions, about every side of my being, none of them understand everything. Poetry in the park, reading Emily Dickinson, none of them understand that. The graffiti that I paint on the walls of my room, and the sidewalk, none of them understand that. Riding to the bus just to watch and giggle at all the people sitting and being around us, none of them understand that. The essential pieces of my soul, are misunderstood by my closest friends. I live with only a shell of myself being taken care of by the people around me; can you call that healthy? I am such a complainer, so pitiful. Not even content with the people who care about me, I guess what I'm really looking for is love. Where do I even begin? Where am I supposed to look? It doesn't exactly help that I attend an extremly homophobic school at which I'm the only person who's "out." So if you can figure out what I'm looking for, underneath all the wanting to be alone, then I guess you're the person who I'm supposed to be with.
I used to have a boyfriend, we were "in love" for two years. He read to me, listened to my political propaganda without falling essence, he was my best friend. He's gone know, so I'm alone with all of these people who think that they know me. I'm looking, just looking. Find me.

This is me today, this is how I see me today:Blue sweatshirt (navy, really), hood on over my short black and firetruck red hair. Baggy green blue and yellow psychedelic pants. No socks, no nail polish. For once, nothing is written on the back of my left hand. I have blue eyes, my nose is slightly upturned, gap-toothed, rarely smiling. Too busy writing. Right now I'm wearing red plastic frames, too lazy to put in my contacts. I'm sick, lying on the couch typing and watching ALMOST FAMOUS. That's me right now. Mostly; I'm that and everything else that I am.
ciao luvy. This has been udderly an experience.