Always knowing when to go quiet, I’ve never had to worry about witnesses. There’s the kid that gets away with everything because they just sort of fade into the background. Every move masked by the cavalier way it’s executed. That’s the role I’ve always played in this depressive war. Subtly shifting myself into the walls where I sink and become a part of the room that rarely gets examined. I’ve known when to shy away from peering eyes. This body becomes a mirage, they see it move away with the day, but it hasn’t any substance. Devices discharge and stay dead, their rings and vibrations only turn into reminders that there is a world beyond the drawn blinds. It’s far too big to care where I’ve gone, surely, the souls scattered in the pixels will lose interest in my silence. They always do.