Why am I not better than every one else?

 Why am I so average?

 I am no prettier,

 No stronger,

 No smarter,

 No anything more than my comrades.

 I am mediocre...I want to be special!

 I am unknown...I want to be renowned!

 I want to be known for something,

 Have something better than others.

 And then the mirror makes me feel ugly,

 And sports make me feel weak,

 And teachers make me feel stupid,

 And church makes me feel sinful.



My friends say I am fine:

They do not mean it.

The fools; they think I am fishing for compliments!

I am speaking what is on my mind;

They will not let me.

They immediately refute everything I say,

Make it less,

And then they go off saying the same.

They think they are making me feel better.

Perhaps they are.

I do not know.

 

In the heat of the evening,

when my pulse is high

It comes the worst

The demon holds me in its grasp

I have done too many things already done

Thought too many things already thought

Dreamed too many things already dreamed

Felt too many things already felt

My life is like a dream

A strange one

There is no reality

Everything is wrapped in the swirly mist of habit.



I lose myself in the fictional realm

That seems as real as life

And fiction can be cheering

When I have nothing to do

When I have nothing to think

When I have nothing to dream

When I have nothing to feel

I turn to imagination

It buoys me

When disillusioned.



When flashes of reality pelt through

To my mind,

I revel in them

Keep them as long as I can

But ‘reality’ calls soon,

I must return to that dream called reality

And true reality must be left alone.



I have things inside me

That no one could guess

Even my best friend would start in horror

Could she see the monstrosities in me.

My imagination is too vivid

I must turn to it

It is what makes me

But then comes guilt and shame

I should have a better comfort;

A better help.



That help, I am told, 

Is nearby

But sometimes he seems silent

Sometimes I don’t want to listen

Sometimes imaginations

Or even ‘reality’ seem to me

Better and more pleasant.

I try, I listen, I talk,

But sometimes he seems as much a dream as any ‘reality.’



I hurt, but no one knows.

I dream, and no one sees.

In my mind, a compilation of thoughts

That never seem to straighten themselves out.

Is anything sure?

Can I know anything?

What is objectiveness?

What is neutrality?

No one is objective, no one is neutral,

But every one is so crazily mixed up

That any view at all seems to make no sense.



So many questions I can’t ask

So many thoughts I can’t voice

How do you combine logic and heart?

How do you combine God and ‘reality’?

How do you combine free will and destiny?

How do you keep your balance

On the edge of this perilous pit that engulfs all?

What view am I supposed to take?

My father says one thing, my friends another,

My mother tells me it is so,

My teacher says it is not so.

The pastor will say something,

And another pastor will say another.



I hate to disappoint,

But I know God and every one will be so,

Disappointed if I don’t do everything,

Think everything,

Dream everything, 

Feel everything

Just right.

They will not condemn me,

They won’t be angry,

But they will be disappointed.



As I write this, I wonder if I should.

Can you question God?

You can, but what if

I should die before I am done?

If the end of the world should come, where would I be?

I don’t understand.

I want to believe, but belief require so much.

They say it will come naturally,

But it doesn’t.

They say God will allow mistakes,

But it makes him disappointed.



I want to go some where,

He seems to say no.

And I know if I don’t, 

I will miss it,

And if I do, something will happen,

And I will be forced to say,

“You were right, God.

I never should have gone.”

And how stupid of me,

I will think, to go when God said not to!



God doesn’t know.

You don’t know.

He, she, they don’t know.

I don’t know.

I want to be free from restrictions.

I feel liked I am caged.

But to break the bars would be to disobey,

Disobedience is sin.

Sin is punishable by death.

I do not want to die.



I hate this!

I hate God!

I hate reality!

I hate it!

Now be shocked if you dare.

Be shocked, best friend,

Because your faith is so strong, 

You never feel these doubts.

Be shocked, Mother and Father,

Because you don’t understand.



All this is pent up inside me,

I feel like a prison.

A prison in prisoner.

I have never let it out,

Because I feared the shock.



I write this here, not brave enough to voice it,

And hope that my friends will see it.

But now reality calls.

I must go to where reality and knowledge are the foundation.

I will do well; I am good at the theory

Though I myself have no such experience.

I return now to the dismal, misty world called ‘reality,’

Things that can be understood

And things that I understand

In not understanding.