I try to pretend
that nothing's wrong
that life is perfect
300 miles away
happy living alone
happy with the freedom
happy with class
I try to pretend that I'm okay
with long-distance,
and that making friends
is easy.
I try to pretend I'm happy.
But I'm not.
It kills me not to be there
to laugh until my stomach hurts
to feel loved
to smile, for no other reason
than because it feels good.
to drink and dance
and bicker and hug,
and occasionally punch.
it kills me not to know
what's going on,
so far away,
in my hometown.
Killing time until
I find the sun again.