I Tire..

Leave me be..
Oh, you know nothing of me.
Venom rises, when you make light of touch..
Ebbing sanity produces meek terror, and I sit.

I am not actually going to speak of love.

I speak instead of a vile thing that is akin to many perversions of love. I know not what to accurately name this thing- so I shall leave it nameless- and I am somewhat certain that although I am not the only one to suffer it, I am one of the only to suffer it occasionally and detest it.

There sits next to me in a class period of mine a boy my age who stands-in all aspects- quite askew from me. He is, to be true, of the type that does its best to both consciously and subconsciously deny my very existence (I know not if this is a natural process or not, but I forgive it, anyhow). However, I seem to have caught his eye- not in a loving way or lustful or even in a flirting way, but in a strange, strange way that leaves me frightened as a caged bird, though I try to not show it. He delights in making me squirm, it seems- playing off of my oddity. He wanders, coquettishly, from the realm of playful flirting to downright testing of my will to deny him any place in my thoughts. I am not silly enough to believe he likes me- oh, he doesn't- I know, that just like D. and E., two people who toyed with my emotions a bit (they had more power, though, for I was mildly interested in both), he is searching to conquer the eccentric and make a laughing stock of me. His devilish parodies of the things I long for most- at the hands of another, of course- shock me.

It's so cruel. Why can you not leave me be or see me as a person?