People watching

I am not happy with my body. I am not happy with my mood. I am made less happy by my family, sometimes. I go out on my balcony only to smoke. I listen to music to drown out the thoughts but they are my own, and I cannot escape them. I write poetry like I am something special. I watch the cars drive down my street and I hide my cigarette. I try to be so bold and brave but I don’t want people to see me like this. I turn on 'dark mode' so the light doesn’t reflect on my face. I don’t want to be seen. My neighbors are packing their cars across from me. There is one star in the sky and a spiderweb in my near corner. I watch the ant roaming near my foot but I flick it when it gets too close. I feel sick again. Maybe I should stop. I should go inside and take my shower. I should take my shower, appreciating how I’m home alone. Alone with my thoughts, my music, my mom’s cigarette, and myself. I just want the time to pass. I’d love to be okay again. I can’t tell anyone I’m not. Telling people the truth changes everything I’ve suffered through lying about. I’d like to disappear into the sun. I like the cool breeze that the nightfall brings. I feel too hot, too often. I feel too hot right now; too hot and too sick. I am always sick. “I’m just tired.” I stroke my own cheek and I brush my own hair. I scratch my back and I sit in the shower until my fingers prune. I’m making a mess of these ashes and I’ll have to clean them up again myself. My hair will smell like cigarettes and so will my phone. I will feel sick when I go to bed and lay my hands under my head. I imagine a life different than mine. Any. A fourth car has pulled into my neighbor's driveway. Two men come out, they walk around, they open and close doors. They walk in and out of the house.