Dear Diary…
Sometimes everything feels… pointless.
Like the world keeps moving
but nothing matters.
Why do we do what we do?
Why do we say what we say?
Do we need proof of being alive?
I catch myself performing.
Smiling on cue.
Typing "I'm good"
With tears streaming down my face
When no one's watching.
When it's just you and your thoughts
Why are you staring at the glow of a screen
That doesn't love you back?
I say "I miss you"
and wonder if I mean it
I say "I'm proud of you"
and hope they hear it
And I hate that I care.
I hate that it matters.
I hate that I measure my worth
in tiny numbers
Invisible to everyone
But
I keep showing up.
typing.
reaching.
hoping my words
isn't just a scream in the void
Dear Diary…
If I stop pretending,
will I get what I want?
