Outside the Glass

He decides to write about his current situation. He writes about it in third person hoping it doesn’t sound as bad. He has no one to call up in the evenings. No one to say “want to go out?” to. No one to look to and feel a sense of joy. Him spending all his days alone has become the norm. He is an outsider to the concept of someone saving him a seat. He looks at people sitting in the warm glow of the café, smiling, laughing, talking to each other, and feels like he is window shopping for the emotions he doesn’t get to feel. To be seen, to be wanted, to be heard, to be cared for. The very armor he wears to protect himself from the pain is also keeping him distant from what he needs. Yet he cannot drop it, because there is nothing underneath. He sits outside the warm glass windows, hoping his life would change. Other people love to tell him it will. But he knows better. Everyone else needs him to be wrong. He isn’t.