People stopped asking me how I feel, simply because I think that they already knew the answer and they didn’t want to bother with repetition. I turned into a page in a book. Only looked at when needed, only read when I’m wanted. Then I’m put back on the shelf. I feel like people forget about me. That I sort of just fade into the background, because I’m just always there. I am the fly on the wall. Swatted away, and forgotten. There is no real dedication to my existence. Just moments of clarity, and then they go blind again. No matter what it is I am I feel like people stopped caring about me. Maybe it is in a selfish way or maybe it is because I became good at hiding my feelings. I feel like the stars in the night sky. Millions and millions of light years away, and I disappear before anyone acknowledges me.