An Open Letter

Whenever I'm out with new people all I hear is a nagging voice in the back of my head. I'll keep setting up traps for myself where I can convince myself I'm unwanted. I slightly drift away and tell myself “no one would notice if you leave” and that sentence begs to be punctuated by an Irish goodbye. I don't want that voice to be me. But then I'm faced with the question of who that is.

I just got home. Part of me is mourning something I don't know. It's all just chemicals anyway.