I do not know why I'm even attempting to write this, but here we go.

...

I do not know why I’m even attempting to write this,
but here we go.

I genuinely wish people truly understood.
I wish people truly understood that
underneath my layers of homo sapien body,
below my hard shell I call my skin,
I’m just a somebody — a regular being,
but definitely not normal.

I just truly want someone to call mine,
pure love if you call it.

In my years I’ve never felt like I truly belong anywhere,
whether it’s because I’m absolutely neurodivant
and that’s normal for people like me
I don’t know, nor will I bat an eye to that;
that’s a talk for another day.

I cannot articulate this feeling that I possess in me.
It’s a rather touchy subject for now.
And again, I’d rather not tell any living human being  about this ever.

Rather this is cliché or not,
I’ll never know because yet I’m so starry-eyed.

I might be tired of feeling like this,
but for now I’ll stay in my comfort,
in my bed,
with my cat Sapphire.