Nothing seems real.

I am alive , yet inanimate .

Respiring ,not breathing.

Smiling , still sorrowful .

Busy , not occupied.

Amongst people, but lonely.

Rich , nonetheless not financially independent.

Many friends, none bosom buddy.

Dressed prim and proper externally, but au naturel internally .

Going around with my chores , like it’s some interlude .

Nursing a broken heart but bereft of any emotions.

Attachment with a sense of total detachment .

Running regularly yet have outrun the joy of running .

Eating , nevertheless no nourishment of the soul and food .

Dressing up as before but wonder if it’s the dress but the life I am leading in the dress

Sleeping , still I am a walking zombie and think I am going to be like that for ages to come .

Every day is a struggle and I am exhausted from trying to be stronger than I feel