Disconnected

I’m tired. I’m very tired. I realized yesterday how I’m alone. I was sitting at a restaurant, Perkins… It was late. I was with a bunch of friends. We were talking…they were talking. I wasn’t. I’m not even sure what they were talking about, I was so disconnected. But I could hear everything, I was listening. I remember Jack speaking, his tone was heavy. I could hear his silverware clinging against the plate. Behind me, the waitress taking the order of the couple a few booths away; her pin penetrating the paper. But they were just sounds. Sounds without purpose. I remember picking up a fork to eat… I don’t even remember what I ate, or if I ate at all. But I could feel the fork. I could feel the tension in my wrist… cutting into the food. If there was food. It was my wrist, my hand, my fingers… touching and controlling the fork, but at the same time it wasn’t. They weren’t mine. They were just apart of this body, that moved just to move.