there is blood on my palm.

i am not made for this world. i’ve chosen my path and my beliefs and i hold to them firmly. i defend them with teeth. my friends are not new, my friends believe in me and in turn i believe in them and in turn i believe in me. the light at the end of the tunnel, it’s true, it’s there, if i want to see it. we are all loved by someone. in my darkest moments these people are my sunshine. i don’t belong here, i’m sure of it. i don’t fit into my body. i don’t like my face. i don’t like others. i feel misunderstood. but i’m a human damn it! is it not the experience that counts? we, these creatures that live the same lives over and over. we, these beings who could be so much more. we, these creatures that, despite what nature throws our way continue to thrive.  no one will ever know exactly what i mean, i will be consistently misheard, misrepresented, unused.  but i’m a fucking human damn it! i have something to contribute! i have ideas! i create something that other humans enjoy. i create things that touch people. I touch people. there is no knowing how miniscule the effect one will have on another but it all counts. we are born to interact. we are supposed to be here. my thoughts, my feelings, may be unfounded but i continue to express them every day i wake up. sure, i’ve had my heart broken, sure the chips aren’t always in my corner, sure i think everyone is against me, sure i feel lonely, sure i feel useless,  but i’m a human damn it, and humans survive! humans look for that sunrise. humans look for that green grass. i’m not made for this world but i can make a world in which i belong.

there is blood on my palm.