Am I really seen?

Am I really seen? I am — by the God beyond the interstellar. Do I feel it? I do, but there is no right answer. When was I last heard? My thoughts don’t align with anything. Prideful, maybe? Lonely? I guess. Heavy? All the time. I have trouble staying in the present. They say, enjoy the moment — but I’m blind to it. I know what’s on my table, but what do I feel? Angsty? Yes. Hopeful? I am, very. People? Not much. Do I care? So much. Lord, how do I live like You? Should I be fighting? Drifting? Or do I just need to— stay still? Stillness makes me think. Keeps me quieter, lonelier, unheard. Do I need people? Yes. Do I need myself? Yes — to stop.