A Poem About Absolutely Everything And Absolutely Nothing.

I cried myself to sleep last night.
Like a fucking baby; uncontrollable, unrelenting
Tears of frustration and anger. Mostly sadness.
It’s the first time I’ve cried in Lord knows how long.
Those feelings generally kept under lock and key
Found the rotted escape route at the bottom of
The box I so painstaking built to hold them all in… 
Tore their way through my chest, as if I were some
Kind of paper doll; fragile and weak. I can remember it:
Sitting in my two-toned gray room, staring at the
White, scuffed and horribly messy dressers, the
Fake wood floor beneath the cheerful bright red
Rug. I had felt everything but cheerful with the
Phone in my hand, held out like a traitorous note…
like a poisonous snake. It didn’t matter that the
Person on the other line was cordial; pleasantly
Nice for someone in their profession, I still felt
Like that one call had the power of a Mac-truck
Packed into a fist. My life or, rather, whatever
I passed off as a life these days, became nothing
More than an illusion I’d foolishly invested hope
In. The feeling of helplessness set in, and I could
Suddenly hate through my despair. Who did they
Think they were? How could they even think of
Stripping me of that little bit of hope I’d stored
Up? After everything I’ve been through, everything
I’ve had to struggle with, why the hell did they feel they could
Just take it away? I was irrational for hours, silently
Screaming and crying… not a pretty sight, believe me.
I was suddenly out of control of my own life. No one
Could ever know how I feel, you still couldn’t. You’re
All so used to taking and defending attacks from the
Outside, from others, but how would you fair when the
Battle was being waged inside you? Under your skin,
Where you can’t see, can’t feel the losses, because
There are no wins in this situation. How could anyone
Possibly prevail when there’s absolutely nothing
You can do? No one understands. Not the sweet boy
Laughing in his room down the hall, not the married
Woman who’s expecting her first child, not even the
Concerned mother, who’s desperate to give the hope
That she knows is gone… No one understands. I’m
Alone in this, my misery. Success is not an option,
Not for me. I’ll never be loved like I want to, there’s
No room in anyone’s life for the likes of me. I’m so
Painfully aware of my situation I calmly remarked
To myself that this is going to kill me someday.
And I truly believe it will. If my body isn’t the death
Of me, then the loneliness and desolation certainly will be.
You know, I’ve always  wanted to be an individual, I’ve
Always wanted to stand out in a crowd. Well, I
Got what I wanted… I only wish it didn’t hurt
So damn much.