Internally annulled,
yet eternally expected to go on living as if nothing has happened,
as if
nothing is wrong.
I am even expected to give off an
aura of happiness,
and to draw an
appealing smile on my face,
because
I am young, they say,
and should always exhibit a joyful disposition.
I have to live a lie, it seems,
because the price of
the truth is too high to pay.
Annulment, you see, is never meant to be shared.
I
am, therefore, finding it impossible to communicate,
and except for a half-full pen
and an empty page,
I have no real friends,
although there are many willing
souls around me.
But what human soul can ever appreciate or
comprehend,
the confused words I am continuously vomiting forth?
April 22, 1997