Am I indie enough yet? Do I qualify to be someone you like yet? Am I fit to be wearing a hipster crown? I'd tell you to go fuck yourself but I'm sure you're desensitized now with your irony, the misused beauty of love for catastrophe. Go suck your own dick. Just kidding.
It's not that I lack tact, but refinement. My shock and dismay is too great to be contained by paper plates of how I feel in the company of Everyone, where I'm the only one not talking, it's like I'm the only one not here, or I'm the only one at all, sorry, I'm a wallflower blended in, for sink or swim I'm not like you. and though I haven't read the book I immediately understand the concept of being noticed and instantly forgotten.
I am an invisible
disappearing
entertaining
foolish
obnoxious soul.
Or... a ghost, if you prefer.
I guess I'm not cut out for anyone.
Just kidding.
I'm serious.
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