Why is it..

Why is it?

Why is it that whenever I think,
I'm scared if the subject is me?

Why is it that even with so many people,
I never see anyone who'll be my support?

Why is it that even with all the glaring lights
I stand here lost like a person blind?

Why is it that seeing the rainbow,
The only colour I see is black?

Why is it that when the winds brush past me,
All that encompasses me is vacuum?

Why is it that even my friends and family,
I find them as good as strangers to me?

Why is it that even in all of my independence,
I still see a deep dependence on something?

Why is it that in spite of all this depressive thinking,
I'm always there, smiling, enjoying and looking at the good things?

Perhaps because I don't think about myself...
And thats how I deal with it..