She sits alone.
Many think she's lost in her own thoughts.
Sometimes she is.
But,
Most of the time she is lost in the world around her.
The people around her serve as a distraction from her own life.
She'd rather create stories for the people who pass by,
than think about her problems.
Fabricating stories of love for the couples who walk by.
Wondering if those who walk alone need a friend,
like she does.
She almost gets up to ask the people with the long faces if they're okay.
But then she remembers-
no one asks if she's okay.
Partly, this makes her angry, but
mostly she feels relieved.
What would she tell them?
Would they understand how she's feeling?
She doesn't even understand how she's feeling.
So she stays aloof, distant.
The observer.