Dear world,

You seem really unresponsive right now. I feel left out, alone, unwanted, unworthy. So, if someone cares, I would really appreciate some responses - not here, necessarily. Other places in life, other people - they all have this habit of contacting you when it is convenient for them, but then forgetting that a morsel of you exists any other time. It’s cool. Sometimes I like to pretend I don’t exist too. Sometimes I like to stand in front of the mirror and pretend like I can just see my lemony walls reflected in it, my reflection completely missing, like it’s some great modern painting on the inanity of the “home” in today’s fast-paced and technology-driven world. Sometimes I like to pretend that I’m dead - that I’ve been dead for years - and that this is the post-me earth, still twiddling its nuclear thumbs and trying to decide if it wants to blow itself up today or tomorrow. Those days are the best because nothing’s different. Without me, the world still has art and art has pain and pain has glory. Everything I fight for still goes on. The battle for the soul isn’t over, and I’m just another lonely soldier writing love letters with my mittens on, leaving the top blank, because I don’t know who they’re going to yet. Even if this bloodied soldier loses her way, I am a martyr with so many others, and I am proud and glad to fall with them.

Unresponsive world, you don’t scare me anymore. You don’t hurt or anger me anymore. Whether you acquiesce or not, I will take my words and fling them at you, hundreds at a time, flaming arrows of veracity that will shoot you down and sting you with grace you never thought you had in you.

Good night.