"Never really knowing" by Ben Goode 2017 (c)

I feel like I'm still in the rain waiting. A storm of emotional turmoil surrounding me.
Uncomfortable. Maybe abandonment. Forgotten. Even I question my identity.
Who am I really?
But just someone who other's know only a part of.
And what I don't think other's will understand, with my secrets.
Who would really want to know anyway?
Am I not strange enough already? I don't want to be.
But it's always been inevitable.
People distancing themselves with caution, that maybe is justified through their intuition.
Maybe they know more than I do. Not even close. I don't feel that connection.
And they forget it matters. Perhaps too much was said.
And some things are not forgiven in sentences. Words of inaction.
But enough to speak louder. Have I ever forgiven myself?
I wonder. Taking on tasks, far greater than my ability.
Maybe it doesn't matter. And it probably never has.
Not a challenge, but a battle of my own will.
Proving nothing to anyone. Never really knowing, what the point is?