One Short Week

It’s only one week, one little week and before we know it
it’ll all be over and we’ll be back living our miserable little
lives – struggling to be different, struggling to be heard and
make other people understand what we’re feeling, but at
the same time not wanting to be noticed because we’re the
introverts of society and whenever we’re invited to a party
or something of the likes our anti-socialism kicks in and
we make some lame excuse not to go because we only
want to be heard and not seen. Can we get any more
hypocritical? We know we’re different, but we struggle to
belong with our fake smiles and nice clothes and polite
conversations, but who are we trying to fool? God? Ha!
Atheism is the latest fad, the closest thing to nihilism. And
on that bright note what’s the point of always getting up in
the morning? Or even going to bed tonight when we can
pretty much guess what tomorrow holds for us. Do we
thrive on the hope that one day we’ll be happy doing what
we want without anything getting in our way or do we
shrink from the fact that reality is painful and the world
always holds us down?

Ah, but who cares about the passionless ramblings of a
worn out teenager absolutely tired of living her life? I
would suspect no one, but you, because you and I, we’re
just “two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl” and I
continue to wonder if we’ll ever really find each other. All
the odds in the world seem against us and I’m sure this
depression that both of us seem to slip into now and then
doesn’t help either – only writing seems to help.

Something like this hasn’t forced itself from my pen and
onto my paper in quite a long time and yet I’m speaking as
if you were sitting in front of me listening – sigh – if only
you were, but then I wouldn’t be feeling this way, wouldI?
I probably would…knowing me, I probably would. And
that one week coming up so very soon won’t help any of
this, it’ll most likely put me in a deeper depression, though
my eyes will shine for that week and my smiles won’t be
fake and my conversations won’t be forced and I will be
happy in your presence, but when you leave you’ll be
taking a piece of my heart with you and I’ll keep part of
yours and we’ll be back to living our miserable little lives
again.