The pressure I feel is a vaccuum,
a void inside me.
I thought you filled me,
but you just left even more nothing.
I want someone to care.
Someone to notice when I get a visit
from my dear old friend,
the dog that lives next door.
But no-one is here,
and thats all I ever wanted,
hugs and kisses into the night.
I no longer know where I am headed,
and the doors on this corridor keep moving.
I can't handle uncertainty, indecision.
This isn't me.
This isn't what I am.
But I'm not sure what is anymore.
And so begins another circle of questions,
that nobody can answer.
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