I Have A Brother?

Spoken Silence

I stay in my room. I say nothing. I have nothing to do. There is no place to be.

Literally, I just want to sleep. I want to sleep all hours of the day. I want to sleep all hours of the night. When I am awake, I'm home, alone, all on my own. The silence in my home speaks to me. This silence. It haunts me. Haunting me so bad that I do not want to speak a word.

I have a mother, a controlling woman who made my father leave a woman and young boy who may be grown and hate me because I'm genetically half of that controlling woman.

There is no clear passage like there was. My mind is now filled with this thick fog that lingers all over the place.

Did I love myself somewhere along those roads driven on late nights to places with places with people whose faces I won't ever recall? Maybe it was in these eight hours of classes lost in notes and due dates, equations and definitions. Or maybe it was in the ticking of clocks and the counting of time waiting for the better times that never really came.

Wasn't in love lost and forgotten? Perhaps words and friendly exchanges greetings and goodbyes in beds of strangers or old friends who I no longer know the whereabouts of.

Did I leave myself behind in books or shows or at the cinema? In lonely coffee shops? Or crowded concert halls?

Come to think of it I'm not entirely sure I lost myself I'm not entirely sure I ever had myself.

I have literally no idea what to do right now.