Stagnant

2004-09-07, 7:37 p.m.

"After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs." - Emily Dickinson
All days are the same; all hours run together; existence is seamless. But despite my life's completely stagnant state, I cannot avoid getting older. I cannot escape time. I cannot outrun myself. Starving does not prevent my existing; being smaller in a physical sense does not make me actually, substantially less. No one cares whether they hurt me. No one pays any mind to how their words and actions affect me. I am afraid that despite taking up an inordinate amount of space that I am, indeed, invisible.

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