As I sit here and look around, I find that words are my only friend. Not just any words, oh no. Only the words I type understand me.

I make it a point to check on the lives of others; to know what they are doing. Does that mean I am living through their thoughts? I wonder about each of their days, hoping that something happened to one of them, because it surely didn’t happen to me.

I scroll through the words to see if I am mentioned. I am not. I yearn to be missed, to be thought of. My mind tells me that I am, makes me believe that I’m constantly coveted and dreamt of and desired. My mind knows what I need. Lets hope it never leaves me.

My burning eyes close out the thoughts of others. Why wonder what they think when I can believe whatever I want? As long as their words stay trapped in my own delusions, I will never get turned down or hurt or broken. All is well in my head..until that cruel wonder returns. Is there any way to ban the curiosity of reality? Insanity is the only answer.