i scanned the room and wondered silently how many of these people
would care if i died,
how many would come to my funeral,
what kind of things they would say about me if i
ceased to exist.

i sat by myself
watching them
all the handsome talented boys interacted with the other
handsome talented boys
all the dilettantes interacted with the other dilettantes,
and all the other people just
interacted with the other people.

they made it look so easy,
so comfortable, so almost fun.
so impossible

i became so far removed from myself
i could hardly breathe
i was watching the people and all i could think of
was how badly i wanted death
perhaps not literal death,
but i wanted desperately to **** the part of me that would never be like
the people,
the part of me they don't
understand. the separated
part.

it's an illness.

so i sat alone in a bathroom stall waiting for the next musician to start
wondering when he would call me up on stage
so i could sing
and leave.
the stage is the only place
i feel at peace. i don't have to talk for them
i only need to sing for me.

they were everywhere, i was surrounded by them
i sat alone,
watching them
watching them
unable to complete a single sentence
or feeling
of any kind.