At the end….

life has been busy yet uneventful
which doesn’t make sense to me
..people ask what my plans are and i have none and yet it seems like i’m busy
busy doing nothing
busy going insane
busy being stuck inside of my own mind all day everyday,
laying in my bed with depressing thoughts in my head
i haven’t written and it’s wearing on me
i’m tired but i haven’t done anything exhausting
i’m just tired,
and i wish i could say i feel numb because then it would help explain everything to everyone and i could just say, “I’m numb.”
i could say i don’t feel anything but i’d be lying to everyone including myself
i’m a mess
i can’t figure myself out
i am a very negative person
it’s always been hard to be positive.. i’ve never known what positivity is really..
anyone i’ve ever been around has been a pessimist and so i always thought there was only one glass and it had to be half empty.
i’m half empty.
i am a loser.
i have no friends, (which i say because i do but it seems that none of them want to hang out with me because my summer is uneventful)
my life is uneventful.
it always has been.
i am an uneventful, boring person.
people tell me i’m funny and i should be a comedian..
but i don’t think i’m funny.
i think i’m annoying,
i can’t have emptiness (in all forms), or awkward silences filled with emotionless faces looking at each other but thinking they’re staring at me
we’re all crazy.
but maybe us crazy ones can see that we’re crazy which make us better than the “normal” ones that judge others.
life isn’t complicated but we make it..
us humans.
us humans..
revolting creatures..
with our plans to have kids and get married,
have dinner with Susan and Brian,
go on vacation.
not realizing..
it doesn’t matter.
because at the end of the day our lives are busy.. yet uneventful.
it’s been awhile but i’ve missed writing and this came so naturally and i like this poem.
it’s just something i’ve been thinking about lately and i think it’s accurate.
we all have uneventful lives at the end of the day.
nothing really satisfies us,
the human race.
they call us that because we never stop going.
so therefore we need constant satisfaction.
but in the end..
we are all empty and boring.
running around with our uneventful lives.
#poem #poetry #depression #life #writing #idk #uneventful #tangent

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