The Origins To My Poem “You Don’t Know Me”

Image done by Canva AI.

To be honest, I do not know where to begin.

One time, I was doing something and the next thing I knew, something was off — very off — though, I had no idea what, let alone recall what happened.

It was all vague.

Then, I suddenly became manic, in which it led to me being severely paranoid.

My sudden paranoia over nothing made me do something drastic.

Impetuously, I left my condo.

Throughout my unexplained runaway, I ended up wandering and hiding in the streets.

I ended up sitting from one corner street to another, all feeling nothing but the surge of paranoia.

I still had no idea what I was paranoid about.

Overall, I spent nearly an entire day leaving my home, all manic and paranoid, and concealing myself from everybody around me.

I spent about five hours outside of my condo, doing nothing but wandering and hiding on the streets, like a vagrant, even though I am not homeless.

Suddenly, this came along.

I went to have pizza at a nearby pizzeria.

I ordered a slice of anchovy pizza and ate it voraciously.

Then… this happened.

I saved the paper plate after my spontaneous pizza lunch.

I went outside, and I perceived a large cardboard box sitting on that very corner.

I hid myself within the cardboard box.

I put on my headphones, listening to my hard rock mix.

I took out my pen that I always carry around wherever I go in case of a spontaneous writing inspiration.

Right there… inside that cardboard box… sitting on the street corner… with Linkin Park blasting through my headphones…

I wrote on a greasy paper plate.

With all my impetuousness, I wrote an entire poem.

That poem?

You Don’t Know Me.

After it was done, I took the paper plate home after my five hours of wandering and hiding on the streets for no reason.

I read what I had written on it will all spontaneity.

I became proud of what I had written in spite of my still-unexplained manic and paranoia episode.

I then decided to publish it on WordPress.

It just goes to show:

Regardless of one’s mental health condition — in this case, bipolar disorder for me — sometimes spontaneity can be very creative, even if it means leaving home by instinct without a word.

I may be bipolar, though I am still capable of writing poetry that could correlate to other people’s experiences.

You Don’t Know Me

Every day I get rejected

Once or twice I was neglected

Eating only spaghetti and ramen

Living without a man or a woman

My budget is a shoestring

I don’t always have everything

Every day there is no rainbow

As I stare out the window

There is no technicolor TV

All I have is a black and white screen

Mom and Dad are not home

So I am all home alone

You don’t know me

I get rejected by cupid

I’m surrounded by everything stupid

Everybody is a jerk with might

I can’t even work at night

Living on change and limited cash

Surviving on instant potato mashed

Surrounded by annoying laughter

There are people I wish to slaughter

Reading only worn paperbacks

People come to me to attack

Yeah, you don’t know me

You have no idea where I’ve been

Every day I think about death

I wonder about taking meth

Survival of the fittest, sink or swim

I lose at everything, I cannot win

Sleeping on the yoga mat

My only company is my cat

Someday, I may be rich

Problem is: Life is a bitch

My plate is filled with breadcrumbs

Taking drugs to make myself numb

Yes, I’m living like a widow

Mess is high, cleanliness is low

You don’t know me

I’ve been poor and hungry

Everything makes me angry

All I hear are loud, yelling voices

It’s not like I have any choices

Nothing but the clothes on my back

Surviving on microwaved cheese and mac

Every winter, I freeze

Every autumn and spring, I sneeze

Every summer, I bake in the heat

Every day, I get beat

Yeah, you don’t know me

You don’t know where I’ve been

Someday, I may live in a mansion

I may have clothes in fashion

I will swim in my own pool

Someday, my work will be cool

For now, I’m sharing what I write

Cheap food, I will no longer bite

I might have lobster and caviar

Even truffles and fancy wine at bars

If only everybody will see my success

I will clean up all this mess

I will not give up, I will persist

I will no longer be a mist

Everyone will see me win

After all, it’s sink or swim

You don’t know me

Someday, you will know my name

© by Nicole “Nix” Cheng, 2026