Static in the Ceiling. 

I woke up late, the sunlight looked tired. My room was quiet, but my head was wired. There’s a little voice living underneath the floor, saying things I’ve heard a thousand times before. I walked outside with my shoes untied, watched the clouds move like they had somewhere to hide. Maybe I’m okay, maybe I’m just good at pretending. The day keeps going, even when I stop listening. And if you see me smiling, don’t ask me why—sometimes the easiest way to disappear is to look completely fine.People 

— Lex.