sometimes
i suppose i am happy.
like when i am 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

but mostly,
i am just empty.

Quelle