Words. Words. Words.
They roll off of me.
I can't find a feeling that relates.

This great, this vast, this emptiness,
It fills me like nothing else can.
And I know I am happy just the way I am...

Alone, not understood, completely quiet on the Front,
A caricature of what should be,
My lips press together, teeth sneakily pressing down,
Unseen, unheard,
As the smile takes hold,
Telling EVERYone that EVERYthing is okay,
And yet,
I feel a certain dissatisfaction with life.

Is this life?
Is this as [insert adjective here] as it gets?
Is this it?
Is this all that I am?