standing still

i want to burn up from the inside out and bleed fire
i hear nothing when people scream and want to scream in my own silence.
i feel like the scraping noise a dried up pen makes against paper on which it wasn't meant to write and every line i see reminds me
of how far away i am
and every face i see is meaningless
and every face i see is a mirror
that i'll never understand
i love the movie that never changes but hate my life
that never changes
except that i don't and wonder if i should
be doing something else.
i feel like every word is a secret and every day
is a joke that i'll never
understand.
and you make me
stand here
and i say nothing
about how much it hurts
because it hurts
much more
to do nothing.
and so i write.

Fact

I am honestly more self-conscious about losing my hair than I am about keeping my chest.