I use Facebook, retweet tweets, laugh at crazy Buzzfeed posts. I fill the void by surrounding myself with people filling their void. I have a large social media following, my poetry blog is a hit, yet I cannot talk to a person without forgetting their name.

You, my lover are the only piece of color I see in my world of infinite grey.

Is it grey or gray? I guess it doesn’t really matter because the color itself is drab and bleak; it reminds me of how I imagined the drapes of the veil that Sirius Black went through and died. It was the first time I cried over the death of a fictional character, and it wasn’t until much later I realized that I was wrapping those drapes around me and making myself grey.

I am sitting here in my lecture hall, typing this out. I’m sure my neighbour thinks I’m typing out the notes, and I smirk thinking how wrong she is of me, how wrong everyone is, until I realize that maybe she isn’t thinking of me at all, and I glance at her just to see that she is sleeping with her eyes closed. We are all so tired (sigh).

I am typing what is running through my mind with no filters, except that is a lie because I can hear my prof talking about phosphate esters and his voice rings through my head and I can hear the guy sitting three seats ahead of me munching on a granola bar and I can hear the typing on my keyboard and my own voice as I’m reading this out in my mind. The noises in my head are like hearts beating in different paces but all at once, so loud that I can feel my own beat getting smaller.

I am supposed to be listening to the prof. The worst thing in life is knowing. Knowing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing, but not being able to control it. My mind is on a roller coaster and I am ranting about insignificant things in my blog early in the morning. I started to write this post yesterday, but it took me over 24 hours because Izzie Stevens has brain tumour in Grey’s Anatomy and saving her life is more important than anything else.