Stasis

This is it
This is how they all survive
underneath bright lights, watchful eyes
this is what they do
they do exactly what's expected of them.

I'm supposed to be happy,
everything is going swimmingly
I have checked all of the boxes
I have completed the necessary paperwork
and they are providing for me

but I can see the edge of the faux walls
I can see the shoddy craftsmanship of the lamps and vases
This isn't what it feels like to really live
to really be happy

or is it? Have I become so disenchanted with real happiness
that I no longer believe?
I remember a time when I could be pleased with comfortable circumstances like these
but now it feels empty

I'm not drowning
I'm in an inner tube
floating in a glassy flat sea
trying desperately not to disturb it
in stasis
indefinitely.