The Hangman

What if I just don't fit?

Like most things in the universe, there are innumerable amounts of defects clinging onto false hope of normalcy.

What if I'm another puzzle piece that wasn't made for the picture on the box? 

How do I reconcile with that feeling?

At the end of the day, at the beginning of the day, the voice in my head says "you just exist". 

I exist because two horny teenagers couldn't handle themselves. 

I exist because abortion was/is frowned upon.

I exist because I lack the strength to pull the cord.

I exist.

I exist.

I exist.

My mortality doesn't change, because my thoughts twist me up and cloud my reality.

One day I'm on top of the world.

The next day, my anxieties and inner demons have me convinced that I'm not going to last much longer. 

I stare out into open space... Not darkness it anything otherwise... Just blank space and wonder how I've gotten by for so long. 

I see things that read "You've been in survivor mode" my entire life due to trauma. 

It doesn't make me special.

I am weak for not seeking personal guidance or therapy to examine the world inside my head.

I do my best, alone. Even if the ones that care about me are helping me as I navigate through my struggles, they can't heal me the way I wish to be healed.

I'm not good enough to be the strong one.

I'm not strong enough to be the wise one.

I'm not smart enough to be the good one. 

I'm less than mediocre.

And I don't fit anywhere.

The equation and the answer do not match the format in which I was intended to solve.

Regretfully...

I'm not the only one.

And that fucks with my shit more than anything.