Once trapped in a wasteland, it's almost impossible to get out.

I'm wasting my life away. Every second I sit in my bed, wrapped up in sleek silver sheets, playing my rain sounds as I mindlessly click, click, click, over and over again, every hour of every day. The moments I get up are few and if I leave the house it's to a job I hate, a fluorescent lit harsh environment filled with fake smiles and small talk and uniform and what's the difference between me and her, her and him, anyone from anyone else?

Excitement comes. In the form of a shallow boy and a superficial best friend with the false love of her life who's only in it for the sex. And if I let my mind shut itself off and quietly leave my body, never to be seen again, I can feel excitement. I can feel the anticipation and the laughter and the fun. But when my mind has a change of heart and returns to its abandoned body, I see through all of them. They're translucent. There's nothing there.

Let's go on a double date adventure, let's do something cute, let's talk about nothing that matters and build sandcastles and ride a ferris wheel and giggle about an inside joke that isn't even funny and talk about our boyfriends and talk about our friends and talk about how much we love each other even though we can't quite pinpoint the reason why we do.

Tell me how I'm the best friend you've ever had. You can't tell me why, I know that. Because the reason is simple: I never left. Everyone left you because you're a two dimensional paper doll. You're so very beautiful to look at but when I pick you up you fall apart because you're so flimsy. What do you care about? Your boy of the week. My boy of the week. Getting lunch, going shopping, looking cute, being envied. You're a real-life Barbie doll, no one will deny you that. You'll just never see the negative aspects of such a thing because to you there are none. You could never see consequences to a superficial life.

And you. You tell me I understand you and your horrible, horrible tendencies. You're right, I understand them. But that doesn't mean I like them or I will EVER want you. You feed me the same lines you feed her and I refuse them. I give you a little then I take it away and at first you begin to understand but then you ignore it. You fall into the same patterns of a shallow, cute lifestyle. Nothing in your life means anything. I tell you I want something meaningful, I want a palpable connection, and you ask if you came on too strong. You don't see anything past your cloudy, messy self. I may actually hate you.

But I hate all of you because I am you. My life depends on social status, being envied, being adored. Once I feel something real, I deny it access and return to my fake pristine world. A wasteland. There's nothing here for me but fake smiles and laughs until we all return to our cold dark rooms, alone. Wasting. We're all gonna die together with nothing to show for our transparent lives, our last moments consisting of the long-awaited slippage of our pasted-on smiles as we realize how empty it all was.

I can't wait.

I wonder when I'm going to wake up.