Looking at a sea of people, loud chatters and bright lights.
All so overwhelming. All unrelatable.
I don’t know where to sit.
I don’t want to mingle.
I don’t want to be here.
I want to eat somewhere else, and let’s be honest, no one wants me to sit with them.
I used to wish one day I could just sit wherever and not care at all, or be somewhere far away where I would never have to sit with others in a place like this. But we’re back here.
God—these lights are so bright…
I guess I’ll just find an empty staircase again.
This story is part of a collection of poems, short stories and introspective diary entries, called “Grimoire of a Weird Person II”.