This nameless thing is a quiet friend of mine.
It has been there since the day that I turned fine.
It is the reason why my face is all set in stone.
It is the reason why I’m happy through the phone.

It is the reason why I always feel blank.
Or do I feel blank?
No, I don’t, but what do I know?
Only that I am capable of faking a pretty show.

Whilst you talk about your day, I will listen with rapt attention.
Whist you speak about your sorrows, happiness I will mention.
But do I really listen? Do I really sympathize?
Partly empathy. But I don’t know why, so I just tell lies.

What does guilt feel like? Regret? Grief? Love?
If you asked me how I felt about my family, then I would say all of the above.
But is that really true?
I don’t know, do you?

I know I would miss them, and I would surely cry.
But why?

I know I am comfortable, around us and with us.
I won’t bother trying to hide,
The emptiness I don’t feel inside.
But it’s hard to be that way.
It’s hard when I can’t explain how I felt about my day.

Frustration, anger, and annoyance are easy to read.
But happiness and sorrow are harder indeed.
Did I feel sad when the husband overdosed? Did I feel grief when the wife was murdered?
Did I feel wrong when the rose was lying in a hospital bed?
All I know is that there was something off when 2 were dead.

On the outside, I’m sure I was uninterested.
I am aware it’s odd, my expression and emotion seem to be separated.

I wish I could say what’s going on inside.
But how could I tell, when even from me it hides?

Relationships are complicated.
And friends are hard to keep.
Yet dreams are simple, and undemanding.
So maybe I should sleep.