Not Alright.

I just need you to know I’m not alright.

I’m not okay, its not all fine in here with my mind.

I am driving up a wall, falling apart and screaming silently to myself.

I want to tell you so bad. You’re the one person I want to know.

But every time I open my mouth to tell you my words fall short.

My tongue falls back in my throat and my lungs fill up with everything I want to say.

I have friends who see it, who see the scars I’ve cut across my eyeballs because I can’t sleep with your mind scarred along my retinas.

I have people who ask how I am, how I really am.

They want to know because they know I’m not alright.

But they don’t matter. They don’t matter right now

Because the only person I want to be screaming these obscenities at is you.

Because the only person who would understand these mixed up jumbled muttered between tear words is you.

But I don’t think you want to know.

I don’t think you even know what its doing to me.

Not telling you.

We are merely strangers passing in the night, you a distant speck of light that I think could understand the way these thoughts and memories burn across my skin.

You and I are something that doesn’t have a word in English, but I think it has a lot of soft consonants followed by sharp cutting vowels.

The things in life you feel attatched to, the people you bond with but who don’t bond with you, the person you know, you trust, you count as a great friend, but when they pass you on the street just barely give you a wave.

The little invisible strings that only you feel that tug you across a crowded room, across a school, across a universe just to be near to that person.

I have got this need to be near you and to tell you the things that live deep down in the recesses of my wall surrounded heart

But they would fall on ears full of other girls words. Stuffed chalk full of all the ladies in this 10 mile radius who would bear you children.

Who would follow your ideals and ignore the fact that you don’t like to use shampoo and your god awful shoes.

But I won’t. I won’t change myself to mold and conform for you.

And I guess that’s why when I try and say these words,

Try and tell you that everything is not alright

I can’t.

Because I don’t want to be another girl who pretends to be broken for you.

I don’t want to be some girl who fits that mold they’ve built, the girls that flaunts up and down your street.

No I will not tell you that everything is falling apart because I can’t stand those girls.

But know this.

When we both stop talking and I stare into those puppy dog brown eyes

When I see that wrinkle over your left eyebrow and that smirk on your giant lips

I want to tell you. I want to tell you everything is not alright and I think you could make it alright.

You could make it alright even if it’s just for a moment.

So here is another poem for you.

Another one of the countless ones you will never hear.

I am not alright.

You’re the only one I want to know, but I am not alright.