Emotionally Homeless

 

I don’t belong here. I wake up every day in a state

that I don’t know,

that I don’t belong in.

In 2011 I tried to make my life better by giving it away.

I’m in CA. I could go back to Michigan

but my life there is gone; I gave it away.

I’ve never felt so alone.

You don’t know what it’s like to be a toxic POS.

To ruin everything

you touch.

You don’t know what it’s like when the only thing

you could possibly do

to make people’s lives better is to leave

them alone. When everything you touch turns

to shit. When you show your love by insults and

abuse.

“You don’t have to act like this. You haven’t in the past.” 

The excuse is gone. How do I tell them I don’t have control?

That I simply just… Do.

I know it’s not what you want, but I have to go. Paradoxically,

the only way I can ensure you get proper treatment is to leave.

Who loses then? Me. Always. It’s always me.

Is it what I deserve?

I’m so tired of always losing. Some days I wake up

happy and feel accomplished. Other days I

wake up scared and alone, wondering where

the fuck I am, and who the fuck these people are

that don’t even know me.

But I’m here now, and I don’t have a choice.

No home to go to. No one to tell. If I do, it’s I’m

“being dramatic”, “stop being such an idiot”, “

You don’t care about me” “I don’t understand you”

“You’re acting like a child.”

I don’t belong in this world, and I don’t want to be.

I didn’t want to be born. I’d think I somehow

ended up in the wrong place, but

I don’t think God would make such a mistake.

I know my purpose isn’t to suffer, yet it seems my

purpose is only to harm those that I care about.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

I want to go home.

 But I don’t have a home;

I gave it away years ago.