trigger warnings: (past) death, implied resurrection, derealization, families
--
Everything is wrong.
I'm not supposed to be here.
This isn't my family,
But I'm their child.
Some days it feels right,
this is where I'm meant to be.
Other days I'm crazy,
and it doesn't feel like me.
Please shut up,
Stop talking to me.
Can't you see
I'm not who I seem?
Parent are supposed to know
you better than all else.
So why can't they see
that I'm not me?
They think I'm angry,
but this is my resting face.
Because apparently on other days,
I never look the same.
I stare off into space
and try to wish myself away,
But they grab me by the shoulders
and pull me back all the way.
My escape once was dreams,
but I haven't dreamed in years.
I could lose myself in pages—
now every page looks the same.
Fantasy isn't reality,
and day by day,
It's becoming proven to me,
that reality is fantasy.
The world is fake,
and so are my smiles.
Stand up straight,
talk like all the others.
I'm not myself,
because there is no me.
No day is the same:
they're duplicates with slight changes.
I'm already dead,
I shouldn't be here.
This isn't my family,
my name,
my home.
but if I mention it to anybody,
they'll brush me away,
so it's best to be fake,
and lie through the pain.
— Jason.
