I describe it as a coldness in the pit of my stomach but that's not accurate. Coldness is — at the very least — a feeling. It's a void; a profound emptiness, and not one confined to my stomach. It runs through my veins and down every finger and toe I got. It's hollowing me out by the second and it fucking hurts. 

I'm lonely in every room I enter. It doesn't matter who I smile at. It doesn't matter at all. We're all so vile and disgusting. When I'm where I'm supposed to be, doing all I can — when I'm hanging out with friends or kissing a girl, the emptiness goes nowhere. It keeps count of each second I spend with others to remind me that I will again be alone. 

People keep telling me how attractive, intelligent, or talented I am. None of it matters. I did it all on purpose, I put everything in it's proper place. I worked my ass off to make it all appear so effortless. What a waste of time. I did it all perfectly. I played the game. None of it mattered at all. I am still dying. My brain still relentlessly attacks itself. I am still a void. 

People like me. I learned how to smile and I learned what to say. I maintain a façade, a deliberate and measured charisma. It works. It works well — until it slips. Until I get tired and reveal myself. Until I feel I'm close with somebody and can let the rot consuming me suck the sunlight out of the room. 

They like me until they know me at all. They admire my mask but revile the face under it. No matter who they are, no matter how close we get, it's always the same. They always see the rot spread to them and — smartly, I will admit — run away. They always realize the sickly creature they've befriended unwittingly and cut me loose. They stop responding. They silently sneak away. 

I am so tired. I don't know how anyone could endure this agony, and yet I have since the day I slid out of the womb. If I was a person — if this shell once contained an ounce of humanity — it all rotted away. I was scraped clean from the inside out. 

I am nothing. I am nobody. I am the thing crawling from the gutter stuffed in a car salesman's ill-fitting suit. I am a walking vacancy with a sharp jawline and thick hair. I live in the dirt with not a penny to my name but I don't give a fuck about money. I don't give a fuck about any of it. Fuck this. Fuck you. Fuck me.