Silent
blank
empty
no new messages
no bolded titles waiting to be opened
waiting to be read
nothing to see
nothing to do
bored
hollow
quiet.
Everything has been explored
nothing new to look forward to
another what, eleven weeks?
Until I see half of my friends again
but then again, there are weekly meet-ups
but I never make it
because I never can get there
because I don't know
I'm tired
I'm bored
I have nothing to do
and I am blank
empty
silent.
The toy falls
faster
faster
closer to the ground
its paws reaching out
it lands on the grass with a light thud
it hides there
waiting
quietly.
I have the chance to do anything
not quite everything
but many things
and I don't know what I want to do.
I could be a writer
or start my own company
or be an Einstein-level mathematician
I hate stereotypes
and the heavy, constant smell of perfume as I walk by my classmates wearing too much lip gloss
but I like dressing myself up
and I do care about my appearance
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