It’s alienating, discovering a crucial factor to your “you-ness” is external.

There’s a weird taste of apathy,
Faces brush by, forgettable smudges on a canvas of
Blah.
Staring into the eyes of another,
Staring at the eyes of another,
Staring past the eyes of another in
Lazy conquest; slippery rewards ooze out of your hands
And congeal into a disappointing
Blah that reflects reciprocation.
Want for something and nothing,
Trapped in idealizations and isms—
Reality is so…
Whatever.

Update: Sleep.

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