Melancholy by Hawra’a Khalfan

I am unseen.
Behind all those smiles
all those contacts,
all those hugs,
all those hello’s and how are you’s,
all those followers,
and all those likes.
I am a spec,
a hull,
an incomplete fragment.
I am downcast
I am unloved
and I am unwanted.

I am in love-
with somebody,
with something
with an idea,
a notion,
that I once had
of what life should be
of what my life should be.
That is why I am insecure,
and my closest companions are my tears.

I am in love with a shell
I am hollow and insecure.
“The first step is to
reach out to friends and family.”
Well, sorry to dishearten you doctor
but where can I fill that prescription?
Because I am not lying,
I am not faking
I am not pretending.

“Have you tried to keep up with social activities?”
But doctor,
Have you heard anything I said?
They don’t matter.
Nothing matters.
The world is but a place full
of people like me.
People are made of shades of blue,
the difference is
I am not amused by
likes, followers, films, and guns.
The difference is
my eyes are open and they refuse to shut.

“How about you take up a new hobby?”
Words are lost upon you, doctor.
My troubles are petty in your ears.
They resonate nowhere
and upon nothing.

I am but an appointment you must sit through.
But who am I to blame you?
Dear doctor,
on second thought I am feeling fine.
You have helped me- thank you.

I stepped back into the cold unwelcoming world,
and filled my lungs with hostile air.
Wouldn’t the world be better off
without this love I hold towards
something I do not recognize?

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