Little Boy Blue

Another sketch I did during a talk. I can’t help it with the depressive tone of the sketch.

“Am I a boring person? Why then do I not know the common topics shared by the common folks?”

I keep asking myself that question already knowing the answer. I feel that I bore people and that they might be better of talking to another person that share the same interest. Jealousy might be a huge contributing factor to what I’m feeling now. With such ease, I can pin-point a quality of someone that I’m jealous of be it ones looks, sense of humour, attractiveness, intelligence, style, confidence, romance or even ones foul mouth.

“Am I a good person? Why then do I pray for acceptance? Why then do I pray in hopes of people liking me?”

At my lowest points of my life, I’d think that the world is against me; in the bus or down the alley. I’m sick of this life but I don’t want to be a selfish person to think that way for there are millions of people who would prefer my life to theirs. But psychologically, I can accurately say that I need help. Help with my spirit and my health.

I feel so much guilt when I’m not up to someone’s expectations and I cannot control how I feel about it. Do I look ugly when I pout in such sadness and guilt?

And like a worn out tin man, I feel exhausted. My engines have gone rusty and I’m as thin as a pencil that continuously writes for its life till it’s lifespan recedes. I am Little Boy Blue, fast asleep under my haystack. Frail and weak, the sheep and the cow could trample all over me.

I am too weak for this life,
and I am blue.
I am incompetent for such tasks,
and I am blue.
I am a boy of impossible dreams,
and I am blue.
I am looking for acceptance,
and I am blue.
I am not the colour you want me to be,
for I am blue.

I am Fizzyfiiz no more,
for I am blue.


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