Rant with a Messege or Two
Jan. 9th, 2004 04:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dielloIn every group, big or small, there is always a person who sits alone in the back, not engaging in conversation. This person is surrounded by peers, yet is isolated and listening to the mumbled conversation going on around him. More than anything, I'd like to not be that person.
This kind of solitude gnaws on the very essence of my soul. Tears me limb from limb inside my head. My mind rages with contempt for others and myself. I feel demeaned, disserviced and imprisoned for crimes I did not or did not know I had committed.
And this loner, this freak, the one you can not see unless you look for him cries. He knows many truths about them all. Their security, their futures, yet no one really listens. It doesn't occur to them to acknowledge.
I feel like a highly contagious disease sometimes. They must all keep their distance for fear that they will become infected. So I am left alone, chosen to be the wallflower. I am a keeper of many secrets, though few of them are my own. And I do not share them unless asked.
Nobody knows what's going on in my shrill little mind. No one asks. No one wants to know. Possibly not even myself. I want close friends. People I can act any way I want around and they'd just know 'that's just fawn' and I could have fun and not interfere. But that is not the case. I cannot be that person, save with a select few friends. So I sit back, and stop trying, and will always be 'the other friend.'
This kind of solitude gnaws on the very essence of my soul. Tears me limb from limb inside my head. My mind rages with contempt for others and myself. I feel demeaned, disserviced and imprisoned for crimes I did not or did not know I had committed.
And this loner, this freak, the one you can not see unless you look for him cries. He knows many truths about them all. Their security, their futures, yet no one really listens. It doesn't occur to them to acknowledge.
I feel like a highly contagious disease sometimes. They must all keep their distance for fear that they will become infected. So I am left alone, chosen to be the wallflower. I am a keeper of many secrets, though few of them are my own. And I do not share them unless asked.
Nobody knows what's going on in my shrill little mind. No one asks. No one wants to know. Possibly not even myself. I want close friends. People I can act any way I want around and they'd just know 'that's just fawn' and I could have fun and not interfere. But that is not the case. I cannot be that person, save with a select few friends. So I sit back, and stop trying, and will always be 'the other friend.'
