by Kellee Francis
As I lie alone in a sea of people, I stare at the ceiling of a living room I once knew, but can no longer remember. "Is the room getting smaller, or is it just me?" Not speaking out loud causes the sea to continue on in their conversations of new relationships, new promotions, and whose kids made the school play. I think to myself, if this sea of people weren't here, if I were in a world where no one knew me, I would not be alone. I've begun to feign sleep, to avoid the false-hearted, bothersome, and utterly worthless sympathetic small talk given by those nearest me. Maybe it's the thought that counts, or maybe you only say that when you get a lame gift, but I can no longer remember.
Kellee Francis is a kid born and raised outside of her generation.