The Weight Of Not Belonging

I’m full yet starving—

surrounded, but somehow hollow like the world has enough for everyone except me.

Sometimes I laugh with them, but it feels borrowed, like wearing clothes that never quite fit.

I walk into rooms and melt into corners, an outcast no one names out loud, but I can feel it— in the silence, in the spaces, where I never belong.

I carry so much inside me— dreams, words, ache, yet none of it feeds the hunger to be seen, to be understood, to finally feel like I’m enough.