The Only Audience

I sit with feelings that no one asks about. Not to seem deep, but because they don’t leave. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve gotten used to the weight, not because it’s noble, but because it’s familiar. I talk to myself in my head, play scenes no one will ever see. Maybe I want someone to care. Maybe I want to care less. There are days I feel like I’m performing for an audience that isn’t there, just me, trying to be seen by myself. What would I even sound like without the quiet ache? Would I still recognize myself?