I think i may be falling in love with people
all too easily
I see their faces and their clothes
but i know there is so much more
I make up the stories of strangers who pass me
I imagine their heartbreak, i can taste the sadness
I know the pain that they feel
carrying their dead around with them
everywhere they go

so do I
I carry you, I carry my memories
they slouch around nosily behind me they will not leave
some are small little moments which i sort chronologically
some are wrapped neatly into small bundles
some are fiercely independent and will not be wrapped

we are all so similar, we all feel the same things
we love we hurt we breathe we walk on
how can we choose to close ourselves up
when we are all the same on the inside

-the deep feeling
of being alone or
feeling loneliness;
the morbid dread
of being alone.
*i guess i finally
found my condition,
and no cure for it.
at least i am going
to die alone,
there will be no one
to show fake sincerity
for my death.