The problem with loneliness is that it makes me smile all the time. You always have to hide behind the proverbial mask, to try and make them all think that everything is peachy.Is it really them who need convincing? Maybe it’s really push and pull; or was that the law of gravity?
Is it just me or am I like a milk bubble skimming the bowl of reality, dancing on the jagged edges of yesterday morning’s cornflakes? Am I just waiting to pop?
If only I could get out of this place.
Is death a dream? When you reach it, do you wake up happy and clean? It’s too dirty here. Every time I look around, bits of styrofoam snow drift around me and blur my vision. When can I get out of this globe of glass?
I’m always outside, looking in. Or is it the other way around?
All these decisions you have to make: push, pull; it’s all driving me crazy.
Am I? Do you think so?
I keep on saying I’m okay but I don’t even know the veracity of that claim. People keep on asking me if I’m doing great but I don’t even know if I am!
Are they doing great? Are they okay? Maybe they don’t even know as well.
I think I need a cigar.
