I wrote this sometime during college this past year. Just found it on my laptop. It seems incomplete but I don’t want to discard it completely so I’m putting it here.
I remember every month, once a month, what it feels like to be lonely
What it feels like to be pained
by your very own existence
stepping clumsily along
in a place you feel you have no right to belong.
I remember now what it feels like to be the outcast
to be shunned by all the others
because you didn’t fit some idea of perfect
some idea of grand
I remember it
because I was there once, and I revist it
because my psyche
can’t heal from the pain.
I’m damaged and always will be
imprinted with this feeling of inadequacy
that waxes and wanes
like the months as they come and go.