I don’t miss the florescent lights
I could feel their buzz in my stomach
enough to make me sick but never vomit.
which could be worse.
I don’t miss walking down halls, seeing a half-stranger from down the way
Every week, I analysed my hellos and my goodbyes
I’m bored but I feel blessed to hide
I hate bookends of a conversation, I just want the meat.
the in
between.
I don’t miss my heart pounding
at the thought of speaking
to people likely not listening
I’ve told myself a million times
it doesn’t really matter
but my heart pumps like my life depends
on the nothing I have to say.