Some sort of nothing

 

I don't know what to do with myself.

I just sit here, thinking about where I should be going, what I should be saying, hoping. Thinking about what I should be thinking. And I can find no answer.

Move your arm like that, spin your head like this, smile a little so they don't think you're awkward, don't smile too much 'cause they will see it isn't for real and they will know it's not you under there. Robotic moves I make don't make me a robot. They don't make someone else out of me; they don't make me either.

I stare out the window without seeing a thing. I don't stare out the window anymore 'cause I don't want to see things.

I talk. I don't feel like talking. Why do I talk?

I just sit there, somehow separate from myself. Just dust and nothing more. Pointless. And closer means further, so much further.

I  just sit here, doing too much without doing anything.

And I don't know what to do with myself.