Me and you haven’t spoken much. And I know you’re waiting for me to open up. Or maybe you can see right through me when I’m at these parties and wonder why I’m standing there, keeping to myself. Maybe you stare and wonder who I really am under this mask I put on every time I step outside of my sanctuary. I bet you make up these theories about me in your mind. maybe even fantasies. Fantasies that are also in my head as I’m standing here watching you and observing how you move through the crowd. I imagine you to be as lost as I am. As deep as i am. As disturbed as I am. Wanting something meaningful but not waiting for it. Or at least, telling yourself that you’re not waiting for it but hoping it is it every single time it shows up in front of your face. Just to learn that it’s not what you want. To be careful with what you want. Questioning if you even know what you want. Maybe we’re the same. Maybe we’re different. But illusions are illusions and reality is reality. And The truth will ruin my own theory of you... your own theory of me... so I’ll just be here, admiring from afar.