I wish the birds would fly higher
to the point where I can’t see them
so I could stop wishing I was somewhere else
I wish rivers didn’t exist
so I could stop thinking about moving on
and I wish I couldn’t see people smiling
so I could stop feeling that I should be happy too.
I know I can’t be happy
and I wish the world would understand
so I could feel like myself
or just okay with the fact that I am sad
I wish that nothing existed but books
and people that read the same kinds of books as me
and I wish the world, or just the people around me
understood my need for sadness
It’s the only real part of me.