Fade

Because if I refuse to admit it and I refuse to acknowledge it, it almost doesn't exist.

The little piece of sanity inside is trying oh so very hard to slip between the cracks of my skull and trying to escape. Such bad behaviour. Does it not know I need it now?

My moods take a roller coaster ride and decide to throw me off my usual balance. Sure they have learned to avoid showing too much a build up but still, one can't deny it is unpleasant to flow through four different moods within the space of a few hours.

It feels like I'm being shrunk sometimes. And if I shrink enough, I might just be small enough to not be seen.

And if people don't see me, know me, remember me, my existence is not acknowledged, and I won't exist.

Memories fade to black and is filled instead with fantasies. I am clearly not a blank slate but at this rate, I might as well be.

When we have all gone senile and the crimson red within me stops flowing, will I be remembered at all by generations to come? Will I be forgotten?

A great sea of people can easily drown one another. Fading into the background, I almost feel like I'm dissolving.

Whisper in my ears and tell me, what am I to you?