... oversensitive ...

Maybe it's just me, maybe just unsure
maybe it's my perception or perhaps insecure
that often it seems as though those around
rarely give a care; a thought; a moment; a glance

friends they may seem, friends they are
best interests at heart, even when apart
unwavering support, given and taken
elusive, indifferent, avoided, forgotten

maybe it's nothing, maybe it's small
but minute splinters can undo all
though unknowingly done unintended harm
self-perceived wrong? self-inflicted scorn?

I try to forget, I try to let live
telling myself not to be oversensitive
distorted versions, hidden suspicions
parodies of the subsconscious, illusions of my mind

but maybe - just maybe - it isn't just me
isn't seeing and hearing things that weren't
hard to believe more often than not
those words, those actions - imagination?

didn't think of it, didn't mean that way
they always deserve the benefit of doubt
more readily in fact to distrust myself
misreading or drawing the meaning of nothing

am I wrong or I am at fault
overanalysed; overinferred; overdeducted; overreacted
though I don't keep silent when it affected others
but when it's just me, should I still say it?

that things can be different, from another's perspective
how often that they take others for granted
that sometimes their presumptions or their decisions
do not take others into consideration

be it duty or right, egoistic or selfish
or my arrogant belief in having my say
but they won't get it, would they understand
that sometimes it could be better, an alternative way?

often decided to showhand, settle once and for all
but maybe it can't be helped; maybe I can't be helped
still kept to myself - refusal in denial?
inadvertently hoping to dissipate with time

I longed to be open, to change the undercurrents
but I knew if I did, it'll just hurt others
I thought I had courage, to withstand the consequences
and despite that, still I held back

I chose to let go, and thought it was right
and yet I knew, it was cowardice inside
for it was me, and me only
who felt the pain, who understood it that way

over the years, again and again
I thought I had moved on, but it was the same
perhaps I was imagining, things were not as they seem
yet I fail to learn, still unduely concerned

I may be selfish, I may be cold
perhaps distancing myself, was the easier option out
but be it oversensitive or call it paranoid
I'll rather it be, the insensitive me

though my friends they appear not to be
for someone as undeserving as me
though I be inadequate and inconsiderate
their friend, I still am.


Note: This isn't current, just something I felt strongly about some time ago. Suddenly woke up this morning with that feeling inside me, and felt like blogging about it... only, these verses came out instead.

Post-note: Maybe it was the heavy rainy day / tired legs / the dream of a recurring theme I had last night / holiday mood... whatever.