There's times when you feel so absolutely invisible, like you go unnoticed, and everything you do is unseen.
The world just spirals on leaving you livid at its last rest stop. The cold and emptiness of the bench designated for lonely and miserable people like you.
Then you ponder if your existence is really existing or if you're ultimately a small spark of flame, filled with anger and desire for destruction.
You go on imagining what life would be like if you were noticed or if you were acknowledged. A feeling of bliss, explained by them.
I'd rather sit here and exist in my own personal bubble. Ignoring the rest of the world.
Saying fuck you to the ones that said, fuck you.