Sticks and stones and my schizophrenic mind.

I wish I was better at letting go. And I wish I could scream at your face, YOU WILL NEVER CHANGE, AND I AM LETTING GO.

But I can't even go 24 hours without a failed attempt at contact, and I'm losing faith. I don't feel holy anymore, and I just want to be loved. 

I hide behind the tears of a clown, and I can't claim "I'm extremely jealous of your happiness," because I can't be taken seriously. Like my mental state is a joke. Or that it's funny that I get trapped inside my brain when I'm alone at night. 

I'm really sad with people always picking me up not to take me with them, but to move me to a darker corner of the room. I just want someone to pick me up and squeeze me as tight as my nine year old sister does when I leave for work every morning. I want to be as happy as the people around me.