Do you know why I'm the way I am?
I don't know what it is.
I don't know why I can't move even though I'm supposed to.
I don't know why you don't act the way I want you to, and you're going far far away from me every single day, even though we still talk like we used to.
I don't know why I am failing even though I'm giving it all that I've got.
I don't know why I feel like hurting myself would be the best way to get rid of pain even though it's their fault.
I don't know why I don't learn, even though the white hair on my dad's beard should be more than enough to remind me why I should pace things up.
I don't know why my body itches to the thought of even listening to the mind and shamelessly chases heart.
I don't know why all mornings have become so dull with almost nothing to look forward to.
I don't know why the summer went away so quickly and now I've to stand up in the arena again to prove that I deserve to survive, even though all of us know that I deserve to survive, even though you don't know me.
I don't know why you're suffering, even though I might be sympathizing and trying to reassure you how it's all alright, even though I know myself too that no one other than you can get yourself out, and how everything else is just pure B.S.
I don't know why this night seems so terrifyingly long,
with no signs of life even, let alone sleep.
I don't know why this silence is making me want to do something wrong, very very wrong, so that these myriad of emotions that I seem to have no control over, right now, would finally blast off my soul to peace.
I don't know why when something goes wrong with me, everything goes wrong, and as long as I think about why it's going wrong, the wrong just keeps on adding up, like a pile of books I'm never even going to read.
I don't know why you don't care about me, even though you cared to read till here and also have a few sympathetic words out for me in store,
though you're gonna forget me the very next moment you move on to another soul.
I don't know why I'm writing this, even though I know that nothing can get me out of this misery and even telling this to someone or writing this out is useless.
What I really need to do, is act upon something, yet I chose to write, like an idiot, who always whines!
I don't know why!