Awake but still I'm dreaming

Are minutes nothing more than miniscule portions of time that steal fallen shards of my soul while we travel in opposite directions?

Sometimes I feel the ugliness of my self tightening its grimy hands around my throat so that I can no longer see. I look at my lighted face three years ago today and wonder whether I'll ever feel the same. My cheeks have hollowed and my friends have married.

Can I tell this to the world? I may not be beautiful, but I do not lie.