i don't think i've ever hit a lower bottom, and i don't think i've ever seemed happier on the outside.
i talked about dying twelve times today and i was only joking once.
i have gotten better at small talk and at burying myself in the screen of my phone but i have not gotten better at dealing with everything i keep inside.
i could fly across the world tonight and i don't think i would miss a single person,
but i am not leaving. they are.  and somehow it seems a lot less intriguing when i am the one stuck alone in this dumb little town.
i feel weird about it too.  guilty, even.
i have friends but i do not want to be their friend.  i want to be friends with flowers and paintbrushes, not with people who sing songs for little kids and yell about tv shows.
that is not me anymore.  to yell i would have to have passion, to care about something.
i don't.
i know that i am not a robot, because i honestly used to care.  but when people stopped caring about me i stopped caring about them, and now it wouldn't even matter if i was made of metal because nobody would notice.
my best friends all have new best friends.  on days when sitting at their lunch table doesn't give me a headache they ignore me anyway.
i am sailing by on a boat made of false smiles and fake texts, but i am sinking.
or maybe i have sunk, and everyone is looking at me through goggles and the water is distorting my laugh.  maybe that's why it sounds funny to me now.
maybe i sound funny to everyone else too.