“Shrinking in a corner,
pressed into the wall;
do they know I'm present,
am I here at all?
Is there a written rule book,
that tells you how to be�
all the right things to talk about�
that everyone has but me?
Slowly I am withering�
a flowered deprived of sun;
longing to belong to�
somewhere or someone.”
―
Lang Leav,
Love & Misadventure