Wya¿

I’m like a ghost.

Not appearing on anyone’s radar.

Insignificant.

I’m all alone, despite the illusions.

It’s just me. Blazing the trail alone.

I’m not an essential part of anyone’s life.

If I was gone tomorrow I doubt it would make any waves. Actually, I know it wouldn’t.

I’m not suicidal, I have no interest in dying. I have an interest in living. I’m just wondering when life is going to take an interest in me.

I don’t care about shit. All I care about is this art. As harsh as it sounds.

Nobody sees the real me. The person I could be. Not a soul.

Every day I wake up wondering if today will be the day. If something memorable will happen. But it never does. I’m re-living the same day over and over. What do I have to look forward to?

But still, I keep on existing. What else is there?

I shoulder it all alone. After all, who would care? No one really. It’s just me, again.

I don’t want to be famous, I don’t care about riches. I don’t care about things most people care about. I just want to live the life I know I’m meant to live.

But the brutal reality is the only thing standing in the way of that… is Me.