I’m so tired after living so long;
My patience wanes and then it’s gone.
Some things are harder to tolerate,
Like the way people can’t relate.
I see them judging each other,
Like their so different from another.
They make up their minds
I’m such a short amount of time,
And the first impression is made,
Often without a fair chance at the grade.
What makes us feel so disconnected?
Do some just simply feel perfected?
Is it wealth, looks, or our behavior?
Maybe sexuality or who we call our savior?
Whatever it is I’m tired of it all;
It affects me a great deal overall.
I feel like I’m judged more often than not,
But that could just be my own fearful thought.
But the alternative isn’t much better;
That I’m just ignored altogether.
That seems a drastic theory,
But it comes to me so clearly,
Shattering other guesses
Into my attempts at social connection.
Then again I can’t say
I’ve given it much effort anyway.
But when I was young
It was so easy to have fun
Because friends were easier to come by
Even to a boy chronically shy.
Maybe easy to make back then
But just as easy to lose them.
I can’t even count how many there’s been;
More than I could possibly comprehend.
I lost them either because of my temper
Or that I couldn’t manage to get together
And just lost touch over the years;
Some even ended with tears.
And here I sit with just a few left,
Most of which I don’t even address.
It’s a sad state of affairs
When you live without many peers.
I just don’t identify
With how people are and why.
Maybe it’s just my age
And how I spend my days.
Maybe I don’t have to assign any blame;
It’s just that I’m playing a different game.
Maybe it’s how I project myself.
Maybe it’s my lack of wealth.
Or my disability.
Or my degree of masculinity.
Who knows what the cause
But it constantly gives me pause,
And some days more than most;
Some days I feel like a ghost,
Floating through my routine
And I’m not noticed or even seen.
Oh well, I guess there’s some good
Out of feeling so misunderstood.
It gives me room for reflection,
Even though I still miss the connection.
In the end I’ll get by;
I just often sit and wonder why
Some people have all the luck
And others are consistently stuck.