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Oct 2018
What will I even do?
               Who would I even see?
That's right, no one. Not really.
Acquaintances with blank faces? Sure.
Professors whose every response is identical and whose age is defined by the bags under their eyes? Naturally.
Old friends who don't seem to be able to help me? It wouldn't be today if there wasn't that dilemma.
So, ask me why I'm up.
Because I'm not sure.
But all I know is that I can't be alone.
I'm not sure if I've ever felt at home.
A poem about loneliness.
Erik Whalen
Written by
Erik Whalen  21/M/Syracuse
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