I suppose I’m happy.
Like when I’m with my friends,
throwing my head back and covering my mouth
as I shake with laughter
at a joke someone just made.
But then day turns to night
and my carefree grin turns into an unexplainable sadness,
etched on my face like a tattoo.
and I lay in bed,
thinking about all the things I wish I could say,
all the things I’m too afraid to admit,
even with only pen and paper and mind.
It’s nights like these when I realize
I am many things.
I am happy and sad,
outgoing and shy,
rambunctious and quiet
I am just empty.