Not An Issue

I ardently believe that we're all plagued by issues that not even the hardest of drugs can help us forget or overcome. And that it's mostly about what we've been through, only a little of what we want to be. Just a haywired collection of our little escape and defense mechanism, doing stupid ignorant things to keep our subconscious and ego from being demeaned by the ugly truth of life . 

It's only after a while in life that I realised that I had a lot of issues, be it body image, social, interpersonal relationship and even issues that probably havent been deemed as issues.

But to be reminded of what you are, to be questioned that whatever you are is because of mistreatment, is bothersome. Personality is made up of all the issues coming together into a glorious mess, something of a chaos put into perfect order.

Tell me I'm crazy, but only tell me when you've got your arms around me, cradling me to sleep.

Because if you tell me otherwise,

I'll relentlessly beat myself down to dust, keep myself from peace and punish myself in ways that are unimaginable. Bodily harm heals well with a little good care, but the scars that my mind shall go through today, will just worn my soul out.

I've also

Probably not done enough.

Not laughed enough, not lived enough.

But the one thing that's always mattered, is that have I not died enough. I have cried enough, cared enough, suffered enough.

I have no scars and tales to tell, you dont know how empty that makes me feel.

What emptiness is this, if I've always been so occupied, my head always so full, my eyes always so teary!

And so

Am I not enough?

Probably I am not, probably will never be.

All of you are all for each other. You share similar stories, you share same names, same numbers, familiar faces, like emotions.

And I? I'm nothing of your kind.

I wish I was, it would make it easy for me to fit in,

Like a piece of a puzzle, a tiny insignificant piece, but atleast I'd fit in, and get lost . 

Or maybe, 

What if 

This was how it's meant to be?

Stand out even if it means

I'd stand alone.

For I have, 

But should I not

Put up a fight, 

For what I want to keep in my life.

Or should I let it go,

That's my dilemma..

And oh so difficult,

When I dont know,

Do you even wish to stay?

Or am I just forcing you

With threads of sympathy and guilt.