December 11, 2013:
I'm almost a ghost.
Translucent. Less than a fleeting current of air. If I can't see myself, why should anyone else?
And so they see without seeing. They look into your eyes but miss the fear, and the drugs. They comment on your clothes while overlooking the bent posture of emotional weight. They accept your smile as genuine, without challenging the obvious fraud.
Why should they? What are you to them?