Disconnected.

That longing feeling. Not being able to get it right. When you want to give up but you don't know how. When everything you say doesn't come out right, but you don't mind. When blase isn't the word, but it's pretty close. When everything is simple chaos. The occasional numbness you get without explanation. Where you don't know when you feel alive. Where feelings are filtered, like you're covered in cellophane, nothing is really real. Where everything is vague. And everyone you meet is fake. Cut them open, they bleed, but you can't relate. They may as well be bleeding sunshine and candy. You can't tell the difference. Where brilliance isn't anything you know, or relate to. Where someone else's eloquence is superficial and not worth the time of day. When days are laced with cliches and frustration and nights are full of words and a dismal feeling. Every moment has an abundance of surrealism you can't shake.

Where someone else's smile feels better than your own. And you wear your heart on your sleeve but nobody wants to catch a glimpse.