keynoire

From my window, I can see a dorm room lit up with bright lights. People flicker to and from the window. Unrecognizable faces appear; some laughing, some talking. A reflection from my computer screen makes me able to see the silhouette of my roommate sitting in her comfy chair, texting the boy she went on a date with today. She’s immersed in her conversation; I’m immersed in my own activity. I feel a closeness that suffocates me like a plastic bag covering my face; it feels fake and unbearable. I sit around and I found myself seeing the world for what it is. 

Bright lights. Unrecognizable faces. Unbearably fake. 

And I hate it.