from my own weight

 

It’s about not returning the smiles

of others or mirroring their enthusiasm.

It’s about not extending myself.

It’s about refraining from competition and

scorning those who revel in it.

It’s about loneliness and being

too involved in my head.

It’s about only seeing the

ugliness in others and me.

It’s about distortions and exaggerations.

It’s about my broken heart and doubling up on

the floor after a thousand self-incriminations and

a thousand and one reasons why I’m a failure.

It’s about writing the same thing over and over.

It’s about other people’s judgments and

criticisms and how they shape my

self-perception, self-esteem, and reality.

It’s about despising and envying the optimism in others.

It’s about alienating myself from my family and

running away from those who care for me and love me.

It’s about being ashamed to discuss my pain with others.

It’s about thinking that if people knew

the real me they would be disappointed.

It’s about drifting.

It’s about walking in a fog for forty years

of my life without knowing exactly what it is

I should be doing or which goals I should be

setting or what job I should be applying for or

what woman I should be spending

the rest of my life with.

It’s about missed opportunities and not hustling enough.

It’s about resignation, anxiety, self-consciousness,

introversion, selfishness, isolation, indifference,

detachment, anger, bitterness, petulance, immaturity,

arrogance, pride, sloth, lust.

It’s about yearning to belong and a craving for privacy.

It’s about contradictions and ironies,

conflicts and harmonies, warring with my demons, and making peace with myself.

It’s about being embarrassed to show

my emotions, especially enthusiasm and

joy and tenderness and the belief that

anger is the only emotion I’m permitted to express.

It’s about cynicism and paranoia,

a lack of trust, and an abundance of blame.

It’s about denial and self-loathing.

It’s about self-deprecation and modesty.

It’s about deference and reticence.

It’s about a loss of language and

articulating my anger with silence.

Reviews

[GlendaK]

Have to agree with Arundass. But whatever floats your boat. I like it. It has an air of mystery. Like the end is going to open up into explaining why.

[Arundass TP]

This poem is like reading biography. Nicely written 😀

[Philip Gaber]

Thanks, Arumdass; it is biography...unfortunately or fortunately...

[Philip Gaber]

It was written in a very dark mood. Thanks, GK.