This is a Confession

This is a
Confession
Of sorts.

Mainly an ode
To my paranoia
And lack of trust.

I don't keep many friends
Because I don't think
That many people care;

But this is fine
And right, I can't
Say that I care for them.

But I do have friends.
There is a handful
Of people for my smiles.

A couple of my friends
Live very far away,
And we don't talk much.

But they are some of my
Closest friends, honestly.
But I also have friends around me.

Lately, though, I mistrust them.
And I wonder what happens behind
Closed doors with blushed faces.

I sadly come to the conclusion
That wondering is vain,
And I must decide:

Either I ask about suspicions
Or confront my suspicions
As a sign of my own bad friendship.

Neither is easy,
But I honestly hope
That I am crazy

Because I don't want,
At least not now,
To feel alone.

Perhaps it would be best
Not to prod at this
And find a way not to care.

But I have done that for too long
And I thought I might have settled
And found a sort of normalcy.

I suppose my away-friends
Are my best friends,
Because they are beautiful in the distance,

And far-away is easier
On the soul. And troubles
Are blind to the eyes there.