Chameleon

Here she goes again with another emo, goth, depression poem that we’ve all grown tired of.

Well, I know I have. But lately, it’s all that comes out of me. Sure, I wish I could write about the beautiful things. I just can’t right now. Sorry.

I'd like to say that I do the things I do for the art that comes from them.

I'd like to say that I don't need the approval of others, or from others.

I think that is why I've deflected compliments from others for so many years, decades even.

Then again, I used to believe I had control over the company I kept, but it was all an illusion.

When people started losing interest in me,

In other words, when I began sabotaging any kind of relationship,

I’d find new hostages to replace them.

Apologies lose their meaning when said too many times.

Though, I thought they worked with every layer of stinking brown I applied.

That was, of course, when I was still numbing my senses in an attempt to forget everything.

However, there was never a time the movie was interrupted in my hippocampus.

In reality, I was trying to fill a canyon of quicksand.

I was incredibly insecure, like a child worrying about what others thought of me.

Who am I kidding? I still am.

Maybe it's the fact I don't believe I'm ever going to be good at anything.

I have to say it out loud, I'm no good at this.

I'm no good at anything.

I don't even know why I try.

Or maybe, I do seek approval from everyone I've ever encountered.

I guess I need popularity.

Popularity is prosperity after all.

I hate that that's the truth.

I hate that it's my truth.

Because, I’m back to filling the canyon again.

Something else that's true, that I hate so much is that I don't like it when people are around.

At the same time, I need them around so I can arrive at the moment when I do want them around.

It's not very often I cry, but I did the other day, and there was absolutely no reason other than to cry.

Oh, but I tried so hard to come up with one.

I suppose it's because I'm depressed.

It might even be about the woman I still hold a candle for.

But likely I simply just needed to cry and that should be reason enough.

I think I should just be left alone.

The problem is I can't stand feeling lonely.

Actually, I don't know the difference most of the time.

I suppose I don't need to be all by myself to feel isolated.

If the idea of "feeling alone in a crowded room" is a cliche, then I'm the quintessent embodiment.

Lately, my days and nights are like a newborn

baby's. My days are nights and my nights are days.

This means my bio-clock is out of rhythm with the rest of the world around me.

It's enjoyable, but only for so long.

Then, I'm alone with myself, again.

I've tried to get synchronized so many times in recent weeks,

I just revert back a day or two later, and I hate myself all over again for it.

In the song she says she’s a “Walking contradiction, guess I’m factual and fiction”, and I can relate.

Unrelated. I used to think I was a human chameleon.

I would change color to suit a current situation.

It was incredibly superficial and I knew how false it was.

Now, I tell my truth too much, and I think no one wants to hear it.

To me, it’s a purging, a catharsis of emotion that I can hold in and kowtow to the lives of others, to be everything to them and not myself all over again,

Let it trickle out like a leaky faucet or blood from a wound,

Or, open the flood gates, my very own Pandora’s box, and let out demons, sadness, and anger.

I choose the option “C”, to get it all out.

It might be completely uncomfortable for others, but why should I care?

It’s my fucked up reality to be exorcised, so I’ll keep it up until the well runs dry.

‘Cause guess what?

I like that.

Besides, sometimes pedals need to wilt and fall away in order for a rose to grow into something beautiful.