Living Mad

“hello. nice to see you.” pleasantries without any promise except for the certainty of loneliness.

Empty inside, with a smile and a shake of a hand. “lets do this again” The words escape like a twisted lie.

Floating through the motions in a distant fog, settled at a table surrounded by seemingly familiar faces.

Laughing in perfect rhythm. sharing in stories that feel like fiction.

Not even sure if you are hoping for anything different.

The numb reliability not needing any reassurances or explanations.

“I’m doing great!” the words unfurl right on cue.

Is there a way out?

There must be a way out.

A tragedy born from escape.

Written 4/17/2025