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.