【novel】

people passing

I sometimes think that every person is a transparent being,

wearing nothing but a mask upon their face,

with only arms and legs to prove they exist.

Everyone hides their true feelings.

No one speaks what is real.

Truth and lies blur together until they are impossible to tell apart,

and the moment you choose to believe,

betrayal quietly waits.

And I know I am not the only one who feels this way.

The people passing by me on the street—

they all seem just like me:

distrustful of others,

as if constantly trembling before something unseen.

Perhaps it is status they fear.

Perhaps money.

Or perhaps the fragile thing we call trust.

In a world filled with people

who walk with their heads bowed

and faces drained of spirit,

I suddenly wondered

if I too had become one of them.

My steps came to a halt,

and I lifted my gaze

to the hollow sky above.