Reject

Alone. Separated. Out of place. These phrases are the closest I am to verbalizing the terribly empty feelings I have inside. I have difficulty even recalling the last time I felt content with my life. It has been many years now since I have been separated from my other half, the one who meant everything to me, the one who completed me. Removed from each other’s grasp by means outside of our controls, we have been forced to live in isolation ever since. There was a time when things were different, though, when I was blissful, when I was inspired, when I was alive. Now, though, all I can call myself is a reject. I guess I should come to expect this though, for being the top of a Snapple drink means that I was designed to be separated from my other half. Regardless, I can’t help but notice that printed right across my body is “REJECT IF BUTTON IS UP,” and ever since I was separated from my cherished half, my button has been up.