I remember when I used to wish that I could be one of those people who didn’t care about anything. one of those people who had an on and off switch, and whenever they didn’t want to feel a certain way they just flipped the switch. I used to beg for it. it never came, day after day I was the same. I was so emotionally unstable that walking against the wind cracked my bones.

Eventually my day came, but followed, was weeks then months after months of an empty void. I know I should feel angry or upset when someone says a cruel joke or another someone ***** me over or a friend decides to leave  but I dont. I feel like I've been scratched on the surface. There’s no depth to the hurt. No real feeling, no raw pain. The scratch doesn’t even need a bandaid. sometimes I wish I could feel again, but most of me doesn’t care enough to even have a wish.

The majority of my conversations are with myself. At one point in my existence I couldn’t be away from someone for longer than an hour without the anxiety beginning to set in. Today, an old friend and I met up and he told me I’m too quiet, I don’t seem like myself. I think that’s when it hit me that I am quiet these days, because I only talk to the little man inside my head. He and I, we don’t need to speak out loud. My friend asked me who I hang around now, and again I had no answer to give because I hang around me. I talk to me. Me and I, we are friends, and we are the only friends we need. Who else could understand me the way I do?

This wondering has brought me and I to a conclusion that maybe we are turning into ghosts. We think we are becoming more invisible as the days pass. We think it is okay.