Time slips by. Tried to stop it. It still slips by.

Ooooh

No one to be happy for. No one to be angry over. No one to distract you. No one to tell, no one to reply. No one; not one.

Saturdays and Sundays are staring out the window, sounds of distant traffic, screaming silence at night. Wherever you turn, you are reminded that you exist, and yet exist alone. The weekend finally came. Yet you have another obstacle to surmount. You could sleep it away, but you'll be screwed come Monday. No where to go.

Your playlist haunts you. Long have you indulged in punctuating your life with music. You'll play a song over and over again, not paying much attention to it yet constantly feeding your subconsciousness with its melody.

Now, turning back, a familiar song might return a painful memory. Silence, though, stirs your memories even harder. Where to run to?

Can you run from yourself? Which way is that?

Looking back at yourself in the mirror is surreal. Your unkempt hair, unshaven chin, fading color, tired eyes. Who are you? Do you live for him or me? When will this droning stop? Poking yourself in the face while staring at the mirror feels strange: you see the motion, which clearly differs from the sensations of your face. You know you don't 'feel' like that image in the mirror. Surprise! You are supposed to.

You have this problem. You cannot, however hard you've tried, 'feel like yourself.' You feel like you should look differently. Not that you should look better, though improvement is welcome. Just that you feel like a different person. (Not transgender you dumbass)

No you are not depressed. You prefer contemplative. You have gotten used to this. Not much different from local anaesthesia. Look down and see people cutting you up. Look up and feel normal. You panic for a while, almost trying to feel the pain but greeted only by numbness. You sick bastard. After a while, your mind wanders again.

Do you live for yourself? If you were stranded in a lonely place, without family and friends, without TV or music, without the internet, without a care in the world yet none back from it either, who would you be? You would be just you. Oh, did you meet him?

Sorry, I forgot to introduce. I, this is me. Me, this is I.

People are excited to meet new people. Many prefer to meet pretty people. Freaks are ok, if they are exceedingly cool or handsome looking. Then they wander in a jungle of personas, none of them their own. Slowly they see behind these personalities and find themselves staring back at themselves. All this effor to find a mirror. Indeed, almost everyone in this game looks the same, on the inside.

You give up. You fucking give up. Tired of this silly game. Sick of believing you'll find someone special.

You decide to look for myself/yourself.