Growing Lonely

I'm with someone else, yet I am all alone.

Someone is talking to me, but I don't hear a word.

Their presence isn't fulfilling because they don't seem to care.

They are talking to me, but don't seem to care who's listening.

It's not me they're really with.

It's not me they're really talking to.

They're wishing I was someone else, and

I am wishing I was somewhere else.

I wish I was with someone who loved me,

Somewhere I could be happy,

Without a worry in the back of my mind.

Somewhere that I could live life to it's fullest,

Where I could be cheerful,

Where there is no dark side to life.

I wish I could be somewhere that had only my friends, people who care about me, and I about them.

That somewhere is yet to be found, so I remain with people that still leave me feeling alone, with people that don't understand or accept me. 

I wrote this in 1992, when I was 13/14 years old. Growing up, I always felt very alone. I never had many friends, especially close girlfriends, something that hasn't changed much over the years. I never felt special and free, the way many do as children. I always felt a darkness one step behind me, as though it was chasing me. The people I turned to, not typically of the sort to really, truly care about my feelings, I always felt let down. At this point, while I wasn't happy and truly living, I was still innocent in many ways. I was yet to walk down the crazy path that took over my life for many years. I didn't realize that I alone had the power to make the changes I so desperately longed for.