My dad finished building our house when I was in 8th grade
And what came with it was something I had wanted so badly
A room. A bedroom. My own bedroom
A place that I could have to myself
A place where I could play video games
A place I didn’t have to share with my brother or be nagged by my mother
And a place where I could bring the most important thing to a boy in his teens
Girls

And I made my room great, I made it an extension of myself
I lined the walls with posters of bands that I only listened to because girls did
And I bought the biggest flatscreen I could afford
So all my friends would want to play Call Of Duty at my place
My room was so cool, I was so cool
Or rather, that’s what I thought

Because what I thought was myself
Were just walls to keep it all boxed in
My room was a grave yard and I was a ghost
I was just a blank facade
Because trying to hard to fit in
Was easier than being yourself and fading away
In a place where fading away meant sitting by yourself at lunch
or getting picked on by your entire grade
But that’s what I thought was rational
I suffered through those high school games
Even though I hated basketball
I lived in a world where it didn’t mater what kind of person I was
As sad as it is all these kids aren’t raised to care
To them the only thing that matters is how much you pay for the sneakers you wear

And trust me, I know a thing or two about it now
About opening up and being a person
And I want to say that it doesn’t get much easier
Because all that I am now is myself
And at first it feels good
To think for yourself, To act for yourself
To learn and live for yourself
But then eventually you’re just by yourself

I was friends with everyone but nobody knew me
And now that they do I’ve never been more lonely
So I guess what I’m saying is I’m the type of person
Who uses seclusion as a defense mechanism
Because I grew up in a society where being yourself
Is not the main objective, I am the minority
In a place where I’m surrounded by husks of humans
Who choose higher profits and celebrity gossip
Over feeling something and being a person
And it’s just really hard for me to find real friends
In this ocean of mediocrity that passes itself off as alive
And I really hope I don’t sound pretentious, because that’s not what this is about
I’m just sick and tired of looking into a persons eyes and seeing the physical embodiment of “dead”

We are social creatures
Interaction is something we have always known how to do
And I’d be willing to bet that I’d get all sorts of dirty looks and silent judgements
If I broadcast that I spend the majority of time alone in my room