Malfunction

I don’t know why the universe has chosen me out of seven hundred fifty three billion people, to suffer the most. I don’t feel human at all. My sensitive mind is constantly being taken advantage of. Like an alien or robot. To me, people never stop calculating me. Always shoving their faces into mine. As if I’m more of a lab rat than an individual. Even when I speak, people misinterpret my words. As if I’m speaking an otherworldly language. Even though I’m speaking in coherent speech. My mind is akin to a computer. That malfunctions when needing to process an excessive amount of information. Thus, it’s difficult for me to ever feel satisfaction. Because I don’t know what people want for me to be. When I try to be kind. People take it for granted. When I’m cold, and distant. People are repelled by me. I would attempt suicide. But that would cause even more harm to me than good. Therefore, for now, I just wish that time would be put to a halt. For a minute or two. Just so I can breathe. For once. Due to the spontaneity of time.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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