the old me

there is this quietness that seeps into me

through cracks and edges i have not yet managed to

close off and seal

 

the old me

the quiet me

the depressed me

the alone me

the old me

who

hardly

smiled

 

some times when

in the throes of that quietness

sitting uncomfortably with the noise and interaction around me

surrounded by my friends

friends of the “outgoing” me

those times i want to get up

shoulder my bag and walk away silently

just walk away

back to how i used to be

with silence as my company

with no complications and facades to keep up

back to when

i was alone

but not lonely

 

you have become so dependant

the memory of my old self taunts me

she says

look how we were, content

now you feel lonely every time you sit alone in public

I shake her words off

I reply to a comment a friend said

and in a few seconds of being silent

I hear her again

we used to want that, remember?

want to be alone

never unsatisfied by it

look at you now

 

i do remember

how i was completely content

of being by myself

 

i’ve changed

but not so much too

i still look around

look at this big group of friends

and wish i was alone once in a while

wish i could leave

without an explanation

simply because i want to

simply because i want that silence

i lived in for so long

which feels like a happy home for a visit

 

this noise

these interactions

become too much for me some times

i just want to sit quiet

with only my own thoughts

for a while

 

I look up, hearing my name

I become the present me again.

the old me slides away, now quiet, still a reminder

the other half of me no one knows