You smile sadly at the screen.
Watching.
Waiting.

You stare sadly at your thumbs.
Watching.
Waiting.

You laugh sadly at the joke.
Watching.
Waiting.

You watch your reflection sadly.
Watching.
Waiting.

I'm empty inside.
Please stop trying to help.
I'm fine.
I'm just *empty.

Look at this apple.
Rosy and round and seemingly perfect on the outside.
Until you get to the core.
All brown mush and mould;
It's rotten.
*****, stinking rotten.
Don't ever look at the inside again;
That way, you won't feel quite so guilty
About the neat exterior.
Because the way the apple is,
Is not how the apple really is.
Rotten.

Sometimes I get the urge to hug someone,
Really tight,
Not in a romantic way,
Just to feel someone caring for me as I do them,
Their arms like iron bars,
But as I said,
Not in a romantic way,
A way to prove that hugs are awesome,
And completely acceptable to hug for no reason,
Even if it's longer than expected,
Not in a romantic way,
Because I love you, friend,
More than the term friend warrants.
You're my sister.

You truly are the sweetest soul, my dear.