There are good nights, and there are not so good nights.

It's an empty feeling. A feeling of being hollow, in your arms and legs, in your head and in your heart.

It's a strange feeling, one that pushes fake laughs out your mouth, that come from no where and don't sound like you.

It's a sickening feeling. You do anything to be liked, to fill yourself up again but it does not last. Stop trying, stop pretending, start living, and it creeps back.

It's a hidden feeling. No one ever sees the emptiness, because then they would see you as just a face, just a fake. You no longer count. No longer can be liked or loved, the only things that will grow when there is nothing else.

It's scary to realize that you cannot control it. Frightening to think that it depends on, feeds on, others; that you are not independant, that you won't be independant. You can't be.

Unless you want to be Empty. Hollow. Fake. Sad.

But hey, this is a rare occurance, only a small part of what makes me, me.