Mimi's Café — Saturday 1:24 pm

"You okay?" my friend asks.

The innocent question is nails on a chalkboard. I know how she wants me to respond. It's what she expects, what everyone expects. That blanket answer that covers a spectrum. But it's really just empty words.

I've never noticed before how good we are at being empty.

Empty promises.

Empty questions.

Even empty concern.

We say things to placate. Our hearts never engaged. What's worse is that we accept it. Since when is it okay not to care about others? Since when is it okay not to care about yourself?

My friend doesn't even wait for an answer. She's already moving on. She says she needs to take a photo for Snapchat. "Capture the moment," she tells me.

What moment?

All we're doing is drinking coffee. Is capturing a moment more important than being a friend?

"Smile," she says.

I stand up. I can't do this. Maybe I can pretend later, but not now.

"Where you going?" she asks.

The question strikes me. Where am I going? Back to my room? The library? Those are the only places I go now besides class and the café. I can't make myself venture anywhere else.

I used to be adventurous. I loved exploring the unknown, finding hidden gems no one else knew about. It was thrilling. Intoxicating. Made me feel alive. And now?

Now, I'm stuck. Trapped in an endless loop. How can I break out? Do I even want to break out?

I wish I could go back in time. Force myself to stay home instead of going to the club. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so empty.

At least my wish isn't empty.

Just impossible.