Sometimes

Sometimes I don't understand.
And sometimes I don't think they understand either.

I don't even know how to say it,
or what 'it' is.
But I know that it's there.

It's a feeling, that's for sure.
And if it had a colour, it would be marble green.

If it had a motion, it would be constant.
If I could get rid of it, I would.

It's with me when I'm with no one else.
So maybe that's why I don't like to be alone.

Maybe.

I wonder if it knows what I am.
It bothers me.

It is everytime I make a commitment that fails.
It is everytime I want to do something, but don't.
It is everytime I need to prove something, but can't.

It is everything that's dear to me that
I won't let in.

Why can't I understand.
Why won't it go away.
I didn't invite it to come.

And it's everytime that I'm alone, that it comes,
and I have no one to go to.

It doesn't seem to want to visit them,
just me, when they are having fun.

And I'm not jealous.
I'm not envious.
I'm not bitter or angry, dissappointed or sad.

It is childish. And THAT is what makes me mad.
This is childish.

But it's real, it's here, it's now.
And it just doesn't make any sense.
I see no purpose in it.

The bowl cracks, but it still holds my cereal.

One day I will understand. One day it will know who I am
and I will teach it a lesson.

For now I don't know what it is,
but I know where it is.

Do you?