I want to be liked.

I float on the surface like a boat bobbing about
At some point the timbers will crack and decay
Will splinter and shatter
Give up in the current and float away.

But for now I drift alone, quiet
falsely thinking I’m deft
Drift alone, still
I tell myself I have not disturbed the peace
Drift alone, silent
Hoping to pass someone who’ll like me.

I don’t dive down
I don’t float away
I don’t head up to the heavens
I am stuck on the surface place.

A ripple might distort the smooth, glass, liquid surface
And once it’s disturbed
I will find all the whys
All the reasons
The feelings
Of what’s locked inside.

I will find out the dirt
The murk
And the gloom
That lie beneath this surface so smooth

I perceive doom if I am not liked
I perceive pain
A potential of strife

I fear the pain
What drives the compulsion
Of the tears, the fears, the grief of why I feel not liked

What is the flavour
The specific-ness to me
The pain and the suffering I believe to be true
What are all the things wrapped up and denied
That float within me that I have not cried

I float and I flounder seek out this want
It is so pervasive it pulls at my hull.

I don’t sit down to think it through
Nor make it specific
Which would make me see it true.

I bob on the surface
A boat lost at sea
Adrift
I am lost
A raft of misery

Eloisa, 4 January 2021

Thanks to pexels.com for this image