I considered writing my suicide note today,
just to give it to you and see the look on your face.
I already know, though, so it seems all rather
pointless.

You'd give me that huge-eyed rage look
that I am getting all too familiar with,
and tell me that I am being stupid,
that you're not going to put up with it
anymore.

Of course,
you'd be right...about my stupidity.
But sometimes I just don't know
how to get through to you.

I hold my tongue.
Somehow, still, we seem to manage
to get into a dispute about one thing
or another.

Pathetic.

I keep trying to not care
when you say something that stings my heart,
or when you poke fun of me...
reminding me that even in love
I do not fit in.

It never quite works out that way, though,
and I end up crying,
hoping for some comfort from you
that never comes.

I can't turn to my friends.
I can't stand people who air their laundry
to every single person they know.
Post every argument
on their FaceBook status.

It seems pathetic.

But it's welling up inside,
and tears are not enough
to release the overflow
anymore.

I smiled at you,
hoping you wouldn't ask what was wrong,
because I always fall for that
thinking that you actually care,
that you'll be sensitive and kind
instead of acting like emotions are
a personal offense toward you.

Like I'm just pathetic.