I sit here and stare at the blandness.

The blandness of the white walls,
The blandness of the white floor,
The blandness of the colors I’m supposed to see.

I sit here and feel everything.

I feel the blandness,
I feel the numbness,
I feel empty.

I sit here and think.

I think of what I could have done,
I think of all the things I did,
I think of all my mistakes.

I sit here and let myself be.

I let myself stay crumpled in a ball,
I let myself drift into the darkness,
I let myself think that I was the delusion.

Why?

I sit here.
I sit here.
I sit here.

Nothing…

I can’t see the blandness.
I can’t feel anything.
I can’t think.

I sit here.

I let myself sink,
I let myself suffocate,
I let myself slowly turn to nothing.

I sit here.

I was just a thing to you,
But to me,
You were everything.