My Facebook photos prove I’m happy;
My status is phrased
in a way that makes me sound like
I’m still alive.
I get texts and mail every day
and work’s going well.

I pay bills on time,
My bank gives me credit
My weight’s staying down
I’m going to keep-fit.
I answer emails on time
even on vacation.

I have enough clothes
and books on my shelf
I have time with my friends
and time to myself.
I have a work-life balance.
I ‘know what I want’ ™

I’d be considered attractive
(I’m not being vain)
Noone’s just a person now
thanks to the media,
but a mini marketing campaign,
all of their own.

But ‘I’, ‘I’ , ‘I’ don’t exist
None of this matters when inside you’re a mess.
Can’t be in a room
without wanting to leave
I’m so busy ‘being’, I forget to breathe.
I’m trying too hard.