A vacant room sign hangs outside the door.
I watch from the lobby as potential customers take a peek and leave, underwhelmed and disappointed with what they see.

Rusted handrails on stairs.
Peeling wallpaper with mold at the edges.
Creaking chairs that barely supports any visitors.

Not that there are any.

Sometimes I think I could convince them to stay for a while.
To fill the empty room, but my mouth refuses to open.
It refuses to sell the room using eloquent, convincing words.

How am I supposed to convince them when I can't convince myself?
I wouldn't stay here if I had the choice, so why would they?

I see the same thing onlookers see.
A beaten-down, useless, sad hotel.
There's too much to fix and repair.
It's beyond the stage of renovation.

So my heart stays vacant.

You were across the playground
I wanted to play catch
I said hi and smiled
You did the same

I tossed my ball towards you
You caught it and tossed it
Right back

We did that for a while
Laughing and smiling and playing
Having the time of our lives

But you wanted to throw it further
I told you I can't throw very far

I tossed the ball at you

And watched as you tossed it to someone else
Who could throw
Further than me.

I wish you would notice me,
notice my hints
and their intentions.

This odd feeling
builds in my chest.
It rises into my throat,
trying to escape.
Finally I can no longer
hold it back.

A sick,
bitter,
twisted laugh
bursts free.

It is directed at
the ones
who have ruined
my life.

Joke's on them.

I will show them wrong.
Every.
Single.
One.
That I can do the things
that I want to do.

That I can, and will,
become more successful than them.

Joke's on them.