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Complex
I'm not normally like this.
Honest.
I usually don't complain to people. I suppose that's why having somewhere like this to whine does help every once in a while.
I don't have issues with people. I never, ever have.
Until now.
Is it something about me that no one likes here?
Back home, I felt free, confident. I knew who I was and what was expected of me.
I could connect with anyone.
Not here.
Is it that people here are so superficial and materialistic that they physically can't look past a person's appearance or initial impression? Or is it me? Do I rub them the wrong way? All I've ever done was attempt to be friendly.
Back home, I never even had to try.
Complete strangers on the street could connect with me and have a more meaningful conversation with me than some of the "friends" I have made here.
It's got to be me, though. Can they see that I'm tired of this place? That I'm worn down by the constant rush of nothing? How can a place that is so busy, so affluent, so crowded, be so completely empty. Maybe they can, in some weird way, sense this in me. I'm not judging them for the way they live, I just want something more for myself. Something besides fancy houses, thirty-thousand dollar cars, the top-notch clothing, and a shelf full of trophies their picture-perfect children won. They must be able to look through me and see that I don't want any part of their sprawling metropolis. That's why I'm alone.
Oh, never did I say anything to hint at it.
Still, there's no other explanation for it.
This place is empty.
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