• Nothing is happening; I live in this world, in nearly complete isolation.
    At least on the inside.
    Nothing is happening, like time has stopped,
    Or I just got to lazy to look at the clock.
    Nothing is happening.
    Nothing.
    Not for weeks now, maybe even months.
    I’ve lived in a chaotic routine,
    Feeling incomplete,
    And confused,
    And lonely,
    And isolated,
    And board,
    And ignored.
    Nothing is happening,
    At least not to me.
    Not on the inside.
    Yes, I’m listening.
    And I’m responding.
    And I’m smiling.
    Because I’m happy,
    Or at least I’m happy that I’m not spiraling into depression
    Again
    Like yesterday,
    When everyone avoided me,
    Abandon me,
    In my time of need.
    Now I’m happy,
    I just don’t have a real reason.
    And although I know it’s false,
    And hypocritical,
    And unreasonable,
    And probably translucent.
    I’m going to pretend I’m having a good time.
    Even when nothing is happening.
    Nothing
    Not on the inside.