mouthing words i read
i walk into the bar alone
i feel so many eyes on me
i think they're judging me but secretly
i wish they would embrace me
i ask the bartender for a red ale
could i have a schooner i say
she says no
because they only do pints or pots
why does such a simple fact feel like rejection
and hurt so much?
i remain smiling and cordial
no one but myself deserves admonition
she is trying to read what band shirt i am wearing
please ask me
i would be so happy if someone took an interest in me tonight
but i know it's pathetic
it's not their job
i'm supposed to find my validation only from my insides
i walk up the stairs
i walk past some occupied sofas
then past a family
i apoligise of course for interrupting their presence
i sit on an empty chair
i place my bag down beside me
there are some loud british people on the adjacent chairs
i feel like everyone is watching me
i must persevere
i continue reading the white darkness
strange that the blindness of antarctic snow
seems like the clearest thing to witness experience right now
i overhear the british people near me
i have to mouth out the words silently
so i keep focus on my book
but i overhear them anyway
they talk about life, their travels, their interests
it's all feels so simple for them
to just talk about themselves
and it's just a flow in time
each holding their own narratives
exchanging stories
no trauma to talk about
i am envious
that life and a sense of self can be this simple
while i wallow in my incompleteness
and finally finish the book
the explorer in the story dies
his final photo shows the pain on his face
even though he told his wife and soulmate
that he has his cup of tea and he will see her in the morning