Staring At Walls

Recently I was invited to a gathering, no more than 100. The atmosphere felt like a drunken wedding reception and frat party. Open bar, I had a few in me (if not 5). In my own stupor staring off at the mirrored walls of a ballroom, I saw everyone had brought someone here to this jovial dinner.

Mingling with everyone half drunken, I found out most of their company were girlfriends. Only a handful and myself came as a lone wolf. Laughing and gawking, everyone had someone to talk to and there I was lending a voice and and ear to anyone who seemed to be alone for the occasion.

I spent the entire evening until the early dawn listening to other people’s relationships, envious I didn’t have someone there. Rather than dancing and joking around, I became the boy who stared at the walls. Stoic but awkward, drunk but clear headed.


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