I watch the ones I love
Drink slow,
Then slip-
From laughter into spectacle.
Bright-eyed,
I see too much.
Not by choice,
But by clarity I didn’t ask for.

They celebrate,
And I’m there-
But I can’t quite be there.
Their fun feels foreign,
A language I’ve forgotten
Or never learned.

Voices rise,
Inhibitions fall,
And I smile out of place,
Wishing I could feel
What they feel.
But I can’t.

I made a choice
That separates me.
In a world drunk on escape,
I choose presence.
And it feels like exile.

I’d find comfort
If they saw what I see.
If they stood where I stand.
But I am.
A strange creature,
Craving connection
But fearing the cost.

I don’t choose not to go.
I just… can’t.

Then it turns:
The stumble, the slur,
The ***** on the floor—
And still,
I stay silent.
Because judgment is lonely
And honesty isn’t invited.

I’m searching for truth
In a world that’s intoxicated.
And that’s
My struggle.