Glass

Some days I really wonder. What am I doing here? And why do I even try? It’s hard to try and find a place to fit in when there’s these things working against you and most of them are internal. To feel liked and loved but at the same time have huge problems with intimacy and body contact. (Can hug people I like even in public. Handshakes with strangers are uncomfortable. I can’t make firends without the Internet, don’t remember how. Trust me when I say that my biopic will have the title There Will be Issues.) To don’t have a clue about the social protocols and being forced to guess or at worst more fail than not on trail and error. To let people in without really knowing how to do that as the walls — cracked and ruined as they might be — still proves to be in the way and with marked no safe route around.

I don’t want life to be a form of looking in through a window but mostly that’s what it seems like. And most people don’t look up when I knock on the glass. The worst part is that I don’t know if I’m happy about the window or not.