Lost

This untouched side of the bed comforts my body in a time of harsh loneliness. My legs, lengthened forward, my hands, lay rested on this well-known, un-forgetful keyboard. The keys, used most frequently, the mouse, left forgotten, never once handled with such powerful manner. This back of mine falls rested upon the hardened wall, while my face is drawn so easily to this screen, this bright, powerful yet inviting screen.

I'm left still, lost for words, and saddened with myself. Why do I bring myself down so easily? Why do I put myself through this constantly, as if to say, I feel satisfied? Because, if that's the case... I'm definitely not satisfied..

Anyone out there?

Kayla.