waiting in the rafters. It is slowly stretching, slowly reaching towards my person, threatening non-activity. Threatening a stillness of the heart that drags me forever onward.

I sit in my cubicle, contemplating contemplation itself. Considering why I never really have much to say in a conversation. Why I can't quite seem to grasp that, I, as a person myself, am boring, all in all. That though my mind thinks random obscenities, my mouth can not carry through.

Or, as it is normally the unfortunate case, it can.

I am sticking to the wall flower approach. Waiting for the approach of a real flower. Something more, mobile then myself, to sweep me away. I suppose that this makes me somewhat pathetic for a boy, or a man, or an anything. But this is how I've gotten by.

By waiting for everyone, everything, every day, to come to me. So while I wait for confidence to return, from some place I have forgotten I'd left it. I will wait for you instead.

I am wondering why everyday feels the same. Although there's no reason why to wonder, because it doesn't just feel the same. It just is. It is the weekend, but I'm not excited. I am playing the, do the same thing as last time, game. Except I get to work this Sunday as well. Which while different, is by no means better.

I suppose I'm feeling down now. As opposed to how very...

up

I normally feel. Normally felt 5 years go, maybe more. Maybe never. Emotion for this body seems to be more of a disguise then anything. Reality at this point is even lost upon myself. And so

ignorant of how I truly feel, and feeling insignificant, I think

I blend into the wall, in secret hopes that you will pass me by.

Goodbye.

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