Poetry: “haha, yeah” by Alex Smith



“haha, yeah”


I worry that I’m boring when I write my thoughts down
And when you read them, you smile, but mostly you frown
Sometimes my head is a French press - granules of ideas
But lately it churns nothing, just gas and air up here
I awake you at night amid your deepest snore
You peer through bleary eyes as I ask; ‘am I a dreary bore?’
I exist within a diary among thoughts I’ve seldom had
And when I read those thoughts; I was interesting - but sad
I sit lucid in conversations, but near and far away
Compacted by social pressure and far too shy to say;
‘What do you think of me really? Am I too blunt? Am I too brusque?
Do I vacuum the fun from conversations, leaving empty husks?’
Of course, I’ll sit there laughing but itching from within
Because the dreaded alternative sends shivers down my skin
So please tell me that I’m dull, if I ask, which I shan’t
I’m a Schrödinger's impression: both dry and dilettante
No, better off asking nothing and never knowing for sure
If everyone around me finds me a terrible crushing bore





Alex Smith (he/him) is an anxious and depressed hermit with a penchant for expression through writing. He studies Psychology academically. He gets inspiration for his writing primarily through his own mental health, but also through spiritualism, existentialism and horror. His writing frequently plays with cryptic messaging, subverting expectations and personifying symptoms of illness. His piece here, “haha, yeah”, echoes a moment of anxious self-reflection. Follow him on Twitter

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