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I smile, but it’s a mechanical action; an expression practiced in front of a mirror. It goes no deeper than the curve of my lips, leaving my eyes as empty of feeling as the rest of me.
I hate parties, I always have. People dressed up in their sparkling best, laughing on the outside, all troubles forgotten or suppressed. Let us eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die a little bit more. I don’t know, does anyone else feel this emptiness that fills my days?
Maybe that’s what the parties are about. Maybe it’s an attempt to fight back at the hollowness of our lives. People reaching out to each other looking for a reassurance that no-one can give because they are too busy looking for reassurance.
I’m not that strong. I cannot pretend to be anything other than this hollow shell, not for long. I sip my drink and try hard to find some innocuous small talk to share while inside me a scream is building.
Eventually the need to escape overwhelms me and I step out into the garden seeking solitude, seeking peace, seeking reality. The music and laughter persist, quieter now, far enough away that I can feel myself apart from them and still a part of me by some tenuous connection.
The moon is full and – is it my imagination – tinged with blue. The words of a song drift through my mind; a lonely lament at odds with the vacuous sounds of the party. It’s at moments like this that I find myself wishing for someone – that special someone – to walk up quietly behind me.
“Are you alright?”
The voice is liquid silk; a balm to raging inside me. I turn towards it, filled with sudden hope…
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