I don't think. I don't act. I don't do anything. Lost. Dead. Afraid. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. There were times I felt I knew it all. Empowerment cursed through my veins wildly like fire. Like a spark. Like a need to improve, to believe in myself. But I feel it all cascading down an hourglass. I know I can get it back. My confidence, my passion. But I feel my soul being trapped by its own powerful hand. I feel it slowly leaving me. Step by step, ripping out my desires. I feel so fucking lost I can't function. I smile, I laugh, I am there. Helping my friends as they combat conflict. Helping them as they slowly drift away from me. Questioning my own self-worth because of that. Questioning my body, my personality, my everything. Am I too boring? Too inexperienced? Too needy? Is it because I don't drink nor smoke? Is it because my lips have never touched another's? Is it because I love my parents and spend time with them? Or is it just me? My own bland self?

I talk to them, disinterest in their eyes. I ask questions and find it's the only way they're alive. Thinking. But they never ask. They never care. Maybe it's different elsewhere. Maybe it's not. I upload a picture of myself. They argue seriously, telling me to take it down. I feel a lump in my throat. Anxiety, anger, fear. I want to cry. Scream. Let the world know how I feel. But my parents are next door. They can't know. We're already having problems. Why should I be another one?