People call me crazy for cycling 14 miles through the wind and rain just to see someone for an hour. I say it's good for me with a smile, but in the end it's just a lie. Because I just want to be with someone, anyone, to feel alive.

People call me crazy for not going out to bars, I say it's to exspensive, that I don't like being in a crowd. It's a lie I tell myself, I do want to be with other people, and I do have the money to spare. But I just don't want to feel rejected, have to deal with things I can't seem to understand.

People call me crazy because I don't listen to music, I tell them I can't focus, to distracted to do anything else. It's a lie I tell myself for it's not the only reason, because it's really that I'm reminded of the things I wanted to forget; all the people I thought were my friends, just turned there back.

People call me crazy because I smile through all the pain. The smile isn't a lie, but a reminder to myself. To remind me that I can never have what others feel, except maybe there pain.

Perhaps I am crazy then, and most likely doing it wrong. But tell me then, because I can't bear it any longer.