Mixed Thoughts(OLD, NSFW)

If you’re reading this, I might be sorry—or maybe I’m not. It depends on whether you’re sorry for what you did to me. I know I’m not exactly the best person, and I think I’ve talked about this before.

I was sitting on the curb like a total loser, wasting space. Nobody approached me even though I was clearly showing my scars and hiding behind my hair, hoping someone would ask if I was okay. They probably saw through the obvious cry for attention and just moved on.

Eventually a girl walked up and asked if I was okay. I was about to answer with something that could’ve led into a real conversation, but I hesitated. I barely got out the word “I’m” before she walked away, staring at me like I was out of my mind.

For a while I had been dealing with weird moments—hearing people say things that weren’t actually said, or imagining someone starting a conversation with me and then responding out loud by accident. Once, after a run, I sat on a bench with my hands over my face and muttered something to myself. A woman crossed the street to avoid me. I don’t know why I always end up doing this stuff in public.

People always complain that I don’t talk much, but when I do talk, they get annoyed that I repeat the same words over and over. I say things like “ok,” “sure,” “yeah,” and it never feels like I’m adding anything. Even when I ask someone “hey, what’s up?” it feels fake. Compliments feel forced too—like saying “I love what you’re doing” even though I don’t care at all. I just want a conversation that isn’t about something practical, but I physically can’t make it happen.

When it comes to writing, it’s the same. You’ve already seen how messy and awkward it is. I sit for hours trying to figure out what I even want to say, and it feels like I’m writing just to fill space. Nothing feels real or natural.