Facsimile

Disappearing doesn't sound like a bad idea at the moment. Leaving mystery and intrigue surrounding my disappearance. It doesn't sound bad at all. No one would notice, well not the first few days. I used to be original, unique and useful. Now I'm just a burden, a mere facsimile. An ersatz, even. They already found a replacement, everything identical down to the very core. Except for my ideal difference, my substitute isn't emotionally unstable. I suppose you can say he's more refine. Simple minded. I challenged the world around, he accepts it. They couldn't take it anymore, so here I am. Invisible. The strings still pull at my false smile, and raise my arms. They still control my movement and the tips of my finger. But they have failed at making them love me. Need me. Want me. After all I'm a disposable facsimile.