Can I ask you a question? I want a strangers point of view.

 

I’ve wanted to die for as long as I can remember.

I have no idea who I am.

I’ve taken every anger and frustration, and turned it inward.

I’m taking life 20 minutes at a time.

 

I have the attention span of a goldfish,

a vivid imagination for the macabre.

I cling to other people for reasons token going,

and fall back on laziness as my way to see tomorrow.

 

So utterly passionate for my own resentment.

So furious I was ever allowed to exist.

 

I feel guilty to be here, in this room,

dragging the mood with everyone else with me.

 

Do you have pity on me?

 

What if I told you of my plans to leave behind the biggest

mess of myself I could possibly make?

 

What if I told you of my desire as a child to do the same

to my own mother?

 

my fellow middle schoolers, who never once asked for my

Bullshit,

My loneliness,

My addictions to the world around me,

The technology that taught me to view the human figure as drugs

(As if I wasn’t a willing participant)

 

So where do I fall, on the scales of your judgment?

 

Is my anger something to fear? I think so,

Is my story one deserving of pity? I think so,

Am I guilty of taking things too far? I know so,

 

So as I sit, in this limbo,

Tossing around all the ways someone could react to all of this,

What do you see?

Who am I to you?

 

Crazy? Lonely? Someone to pity? Someone to care about?

A stranger with a long and boring story?

A person who tries his best to be profound?

Someone too far gone?

Someone who can claim his heart back?

Hardly, I’m too much of a coward for that.

I simply don’t seem to be able to answer this question on my own, so I want your honest, gut reaction. On a scale of 1 to crazy, where am I?