I want there words i'm saying to make sense, and the days to go by less full and dull. I want to have feelings again, and to be able to write again. I hate where i am. I hate where i'm going. I hate the people i'm with. I hate how everything is changing. I can't do it much longer, i'm fake, shiny and hard. Plastic. When you tap me i'm hollow. I leave metallic tastes in your mouth when you kiss me, and i'm nothing of what i was. I'll all of nothing. And everything around me is chipping me away. Denting me. Nothing.