Look at me. What do you see? A brilliant smile, a tall stride; a clever silhouette reflecting confidence and power.
Do you see how I smile with my eyes everytime? See how my smile showes all my teeth? My voice is loud and clear it rings like bells through the pews. Let my song take you to church. Let my words comfort you.
My studies are always priority, which makes me an excellent slave. I wear my kindness like armor. For whom truly wants to be mad and hostile toward a little piece of sunshine?
But
I am in fact hollow. Your words don't taint me because there is nothing left to rot. Your glares don't hurt me because I glare at myself everyday. Your insults can't cut me because I am already shredded.
I am Hollow; I am here to be an extra, the spare character in the story that is here for a chapter, helps the heroine and then mysteriously is never mentioned again.
A pretty face/an empty shell.
Hollow.
What does it feel like? To feel anything? To be able to have no fear of hurting others? How to I begin to fill myself when all I do is try repeatedly only to fail?
How do I become...full?
And not hollow..
-Pandaish