I feel like I’m stuck in time.
My feet, cemented to the ground where I stand.
People soar by me on both sides.
All around me, yet nowhere near me.
They successfully string together passionate ideas, delicate drapery, and sky-high goals to form a shell of utter perfection, to those who observe from the outside.
But here I stand, with anger.
An anger so strong, it is removing every part of me until I am too tired to feel anything at all.
This emptiness acts as my superintendence.
Forcing me to laugh loudly at overused jokes,
and widen my tightly shut lips into a smile at compliments, spoken by the peers that play the part of my closest companions.
But these words, once soaked up, fall deep down the hollow hallways of what is left of me.
Welcomed by nothing but a disagreeing voice, behind the quiet thank you that escapes from this empty shell.