Feeling Funny


This week I feel funny. I feel out of place, underdressed and alone. I feel a little bit like sticky hands that you can't wash. I can't shake this feeling but for some reason I don't mind. I like to be alone with the ghosts that live in my room, I like my books and the crumbs on my shirt from eating in my creaky bed. I like to sit under my window and feel the wind rustle my hair. I like to see the ocean of clothes on my floor and know where everything is. I like the little spider that haunts me when I open up my closet and I like to feel funny sometimes. Sometimes, it's good to be alone and fall in love with tiny things that you normally take for granted or possibly even complain about. I love to lay in my bed and not go to school... It's #1 on my horrible habits list. Missing school is like my fix of nicotine, my cigarette that I have been hopelessly longing for but don't have a penny to my name to blow on a multi billion dollar waste of lives and livers. It's a gross thing but it is my favorite thing. I try my hardest to break my habit, to stop "smoking" just for one class but I just cannot do it. My life every morning goes a little something like this: wake up at 8 scratch that, 9:30 if I'm lucky, sail through my ocean of clothes and throw on something, anything because I am too tired to care and I forget to brush my hair. Then, my body conquers extreme hunger pains until around 2 because I am too nauseated to eat, I drive to school with fresh papers of untouched homework, walk into what is soon to be the death of me and walk out because of fear of absolutely NOTHING.(anxiety) then comes my funny feeling that cannot, no matter how hard it tries, bother me. It's different, but not bothersome. I then sleep for long hours and eat nothing but crackers or junk food which is to blame for the many lurking pounds on my legs, bum and tummy. But it doesn't bother me. I feel that I am running out of excuses and I am scared. I am scared to face the real world, the world that exists beyond my books and my loneliness, the crowded, busy, stressful world that I have gladly been absent from. I beat myself up for being self absorbed and careless but I needed a break.



This is an honest poem of my emotions.

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