I Find It Strange

I Find It Strange

 

I find it strange that

Even just at the idea of me writing this

Some people would consider me “gay” or “lame.”

Like my sexual orientation or physical disabilities

determine my ability to have emotions.

 

I find it strange that

As an adult male in America

I’m expected to bottle up my feelings

And only let them out once I’ve run out of other bottles to drink from.

That it’s considered perfectly okay

To replace the alcohol with sadness

because that’s the only way most of us

Have learned to cope.

 

I find it strange that

Crying myself to sleep once a year is more socially acceptable

Than telling my friends about my internal conflicts and struggles as they come up.

That water trickling out of my eyes in public is supposed to be embarrassing

But waterfalls in solitude are fine as long as nobody else is around to see it.

Waterfalls are supposed to be beautiful

And viewed by curious onlookers

As long as they stay on the path and try not to littler.

But nobody has hiked down that trail but me in years

And it’s starting to get overgrown and filled with trash

From the lack of maintenance and care.

 

I find it strange that

After years of being the stable one and the shoulder to cry on,

The moment my life starts being a bit difficult

Friends are always too busy or have their own problems that seem worse than mine.

That the one time in years that I’ve needed to vent

Is the one time I can’t find anyone to feign interest in my problems.

 

I find it strange that

Making it known how much you’re hurting makes people uncomfortable

But our natural tendency is to want to know all the juicy gossip around us.

That as soon as they hear it from the horse’s mouth

They say that now is not the time,

But if Nancy from accounting happened to mention it during lunch break

They’d keep beating that same horse until well after it had died.

 

I find it strange that

I am just as bad as everyone else

But only recognize my hypocrisy,

never changing my actions.

 

I find it strange that

People turn away from each other instead of seeking help.

Friends say nothing when asked what’s wrong,

Even though you can see their soul being crushed

Behind the hope in their eyes that one day

Their lives will just work out in the end

Like decades of sitcoms and rom coms have taught them.

But life isn’t a comedy unless you’re able to make fun of the pain,

So killing yourself is just a joke you make after being embarrassed

And actual suicide and depression are too heavy of a topic

To have a conversation about with anyone but yourself.

And you already know what you think about it

Because you’ve stood at that ledge alone before,

So that conversation never goes anywhere new.

 

I find it strange that,

While our lives start ablaze around us

Creating the dumpster fire that we’ve learned to joke about,

Like a dog drinking coffee we say “This is Fine” because

We’ve decided that facing the reality or the situation is too much “adulting” for today.

We turn to everything DARE told us to avoid as kids,

Spiking the coffee with something hard enough to make us forget our problems

Or at least replace them with different ones.

Jail time or addiction are things we’ve seen shows about on Netflix

So it’s at least something we can write home to our parents about and get a response.

 

I find it strange that,

While living in a world working opposed to us

And everything we were taught to value,

My generation struggles alone rather than together.

 

I find it strange that

Only after reading this today will anybody think to check on me.

That me trying to organize my thoughts and emotions on paper

Is considered a cry for help,

But spending months trying to avoid any amount of time alone

Didn’t seem like a red flag to anyone.

They say you need to enjoy your own company

But when in the company of myself

I find it hard to ignore the shit that asshole has to say.

You are your own worst critic,

But if nobody else ever thought to submit a review

It’s all you’ve got to go on.

And I tend to only give 1 star.

 

I find it strange that

The lines I’ve added and then removed

Exceed those that made it to the final draft.

What would you think if I left the words I decided you shouldn’t hear?

There are countless stories told and feelings expressed that no longer exist

Because of easy access to the backspace key.

What would today be like if everything we say isn’t carefully curated?

Our words made ideal for tweeting or sharing so others are jealous of our perfect lives

Earning upvotes and likes while we struggle in behind the screen.

 

I find it strange that

The only word I could feel comfortable using this many times was “strange”

When really “terrifying,” “sad,” or “concerning” were better fits for the topic.

 

I find it strange that

Even with everything I worry about,

Somehow, I can still be happy.

 

I find it strange that

Even with everything I worry about,

Somehow, I am still happy.

 

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