I Was There, But Not Really

They saw me
but I wasn’t there.

Not fully.
Not truly.

Just a shape.
Just a shadow.
Just something
close to alive.

I spoke,
but the voice
didn’t sound
like mine.

It echoed
like I was speaking
from behind a wall.

A thick wall
inside my own head.

They laughed.
I smiled.
They asked.
I nodded.

But I didn’t feel
any of it.

It was like
watching my body
from a distance.

Like I had slipped
out of my skin
and left
a hollow version
to survive for me.

I wanted to scream,
“I’m not here!”

But my mouth
kept saying
“I’m fine.”

I was in the room,
but also lost
in a fog
no one else could see.

I was with people
but I felt
more alone
than when I’m
by myself.

Some days,
I come back.

I feel
my own heartbeat.
My hands.
My thoughts.

Other days,
I vanish
again.

Not forever.
But long enough
to forget
what real feels like.

And that
that scares me
more than silence.