Amber Smith

Why do I feel like, sometimes, I have no one in the entire world who knows me in even the slightest, most insignificant way?

And I really wonder how people get to be normal like this.

How they just seem to know what to say and do, automatically.

Why do I feel like, sometimes, I have no one in the entire world who knows me in even the slightest, most insignificant way?

Would anyone care?

Would anyone even fucking notice?

What if one day I just wasn’t here anymore?

What if one day it all just stopped?

And I’m trying so hard to just go back to my life. The way it used to be. The way I used to be.

but all I want to do is pick the book up and hit him over the head with it. Why does he keep trying to take over my book club?

But I can’t listen all the way because I seem to have only one thought. Just this: Fucking die fucking asshole fucking kill you fucking die, die, die.

“Are you really okay?” I nod, even though I’m not sure if I am—if I ever will be.

Because I can’t think of anything in the world that I’m interested in anymore.