Blogging, poetry

When They Don’t Understand

You don’t understand what’s going on inside of my head, and I don’t know what’s going on inside of yours. You don’t get why I do what I do, and I don’t understand why you are the way you are. You and I–we’re two entirely different people; on the same Earth but still in completely different worlds.

There’s no one like me. There’s no one like you. So, how can anyone ever understand?


When they don’t understand…

My dreams, hopes and desires. Why I’m willing to spend countless hours in the early mornings and late nights just trying to make these dreams come to life as I write.

Why I over analyze and overthink every little thing and every single word you speak. Why stupid shit stays with me for weeks and weighs on me till I get weak and feel I’m about to breakdown to my knees.

Why I can’t seem to trust. They tell me I have to let people in, but I can’t seem to open up. On top of it, my memory is scarred with grudges I know I can never let go of. And they just keep coming. Believe me, I hate it more than you do.

Why one second I seem to be in the clouds, and the next I’m in the ground. Six feet down. Why my highs and lows flip like a light switch I can’t seem to control. I try to love myself but this flaw makes it a living hell. Maybe I need help.

Why I feel like disappearing without a word or trace. Without a goodbye, I’d runaway. Not say a single thing. I’d leave these four walls, this ball and chain, my past life up till this second…and I’d start again. Fresh. A new dawn, a new day, a new path and endless new ways.

My OCD needs and anxieties. The uncontrollable, impulsive hunger I need to feed. The way I scrub and organize because everything needs to stay neat and clean. Sometimes it drives me crazy, but when everything is in its place, I feel a little closer to being complete.

Why I’d rather be alone than in clubs; at home instead of out getting drunk and fucked up. Why I’d rather focus on my dream then simply going out and living in one.

Why I try so hard to make something work even when it stays broken. It’s just dangerous–like flooring the pedal of a faulty car down the freeway and trusting everything will stay together. But I’m falling apart, piece by piece.

Why I hold grudges. Actions speak louder than words. Say ‘sorry’ all you want, but I’ll never forget what you did. These travesties keep the walls of my mind forever stained in some maroon red, and I can’t seem to paint over it.

Why I reach beyond my grasp and want everything I can’t have. This dream, destiny, legacy… I want to build an empire and I’ve never wanted anything so bad. I won’t stop reaching till I die and fall flat. I won’t stop even if it drives me mad.

Why I feel like I lost a relationship I never had. Why I’m still so mad over what he did. The potential killed itself, and without closure, left. Not a word, not a text message. As I sit here by myself, I can’t help but dwell, wondering if I’ll grow to fall the way he fell.

You may never understand…and honestly, I’m not sure I will either.


Thanks for reading. To those that like and follow, thank you as well! 🙂

-Jordan Antonacci
Twitter: @misterhushhush

1 thought on “When They Don’t Understand”

  1. I can’t believe that it sounds like what goes through my racing mind continuously. I am exactly as described and lately my expression has backfired, labeling me as the troubled trigger finger that shoots at the wrong target, even though I point precisely where I intend with hopes to help. I feel totally misunderstood yet trudge on. Thanks for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

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