Formless on the outside,
Empty on the inside.
It sounds like a riddle
And my answer is
Nothing.
What is your favorite color?
What do you like?
What are your hobbies?
What do you think?
Who are you?
It’s a test and I want to give the right answer
Your love was conditional, and so is my identity.
I want to be liked, but that doesn’t answer the question.
I want to be enough, but how can I say that?
I want to be accepted, and the fear is suffocating me.
Leaves rustling, howls echoing between buildings
Even the wind asserts its presence in the world without ever being seen
Whereas I am physical, tangible, and visible—but not in the ways that matter
It’s lonely in here—not even the wind passes through a void
A half-baked, shadow of a person
Who exists for others and has nothing of her own.