Own Worst Enemy Try to fix things. Make them worse. Try to apologise, make it a mess. Try to explain my predicament, try to enlighten them. Make it complicated. Hear them now, b*tching, moaning, bad-mouthing, twisting the knife in my back. Having fun, laughing, joking, enjoying eachother's company... All without me. Tolerated, exasperated, frustrated, never wanted. Isolated, what a joke. Identified as a joke. Who needs enemies with friends like these? Turn to my books, to my bike, introverted, isolated, but safe. Every word makes it worse, every comment laughable, damage limitation at all-time high. Cut my tongue off before I become even more of a joke to you all. Laugh and point behind my back, roll your eyes, dismiss me and my mind, close the doors to the group and turn your backs on me. Pay no attention to my struggles, forget I exist when it suits you. Tell me I bring it on myself, tell me I don't help myself, tell me I make it worse myself. But don't listen when I tell you I struggle, within myself, a constant battle of thoughts and processes. You see my pain, see my eyes, see my struggles. Ignore me. Brush me under the carpet to avoid dealing with someone in pain. Leave me out of your perfect bubble, embrace eachother's lively nature and ignore my lull. Bipolar. Who needs enemies with friends like you?