My wall is in front of me,
It's a barrier of sorts, although protective and warm.
Behind this wall is my only home, really.
Behind this wall, I can watch people. How friends interact, how they relate,
I can try to understand people and their motives.
I can try to understand their wounds, their stories, their love and their hate.
That world out there seems self-involved, cruel, vain.
Sitting in the shadows, I don’t have to feel their pain.
I daydream and stare and everything seems like a game.
I’m disconnected and analytical, speculative.
Unaffected, critical and objective.
I don’t have to explain myself or worry about others when alone.
“What are you staring at?”
I’m back to the party I didn’t want to attend.
I need to be convivial, act jovial, pretend.
These people are happy, so I guess it could be worse.
But home is the antidote to my somewhat antisocial curse.
Behind my wall, watching, is social enough.