A Blame Game Over Understanding

Where the hell does a boy with a mind of a grown man turn too?
Too his pitiful acquaintances with the same irrelevant advice in which they make seem so easy?
And not to mention the fact that words repeated by so many slowly become weaker.
Where does a boy like ME turn to?
I have no sense of direction because I've been lost since the beginning; I don't have a sense of where "home" is.
There is no place out here that meets my expectations of a utopia making everything a dystopia and a dark nightmare.
I'm stuck and as my feelings erupt into utter silence, I over think, sleep less and cry more.
Not because I pity my self but because I want a sense of comfort that I have never come face to face with in my whole life.
That it's self makes it harder, because I don't know what it feels like ...
At the end of the day, I rely on venting my self through the ink of a pen and the layers of paper.
At the end of the day, I rely on my deep grown thoughts which seem different and at times, TOO different.
Jesus Christ nobody understands me, it makes me feel isolated, it makes me feel hurt.
Can they at least admire the fact I'm different?
Can they at least admire the fact I'm not the same and not shallow?
Most of all can I understand that they'll never understand.