Your necklace is leaking; your grand display of arrogance reeking of falsity, the superficial lure of mundane commonality failing to rise to the occasion. The illusion goes uncast, and exposed before our eyes, your prone figure stands out of sorts, oblivious in the midst of awkwardness.

Our eyes meet, silent acknowledgement of the unusual, locking in those silent moments to pass judgment. Unaware you meet our gaze in this agonizing period following a most dour of sentences, missing the disapproval that has charged through the air in a wave of the vaporous disgust, the product of our watered minds. You lack our skill, and you lack our knowledge. You see the world as it is and not as you should. The world is more than simple meetings and greetings. The world is one of reputation and appearance. Worldly endeavors hold no place but that of mere placeholders, an assertion of rank. Your pathetic attempt at the ‘token traveled socialite’ has gone down in smoke, and I feel the need to distance myself from this game of charades. I have guessed your purpose, I have guessed your strategy, and refuse you the glory of admitting even the smallest glance into my egos overthrow. I will be the master of your life while in my presence, and within my walls your precious name, known for kindness and willingness and openness, will be dragged in filth, uttered with the foulest of venoms I dare speak. You sir, will cower in the fear of my authority, will, without so much as my most bittersweet demand, leave this circle, of your own shame, plagued by your disastrous efforts at grandeur.

Why should you have a say in the dissipation of my ongoing delusions. I refuse to join your accepted your truths, your reality, and realize I have failed to make a person of myself. I refuse to allow this mask to fall and display the shell of a person I know I have become. Your character will not overpower my pathetic shadow of an existence; my evanescence will not be exposed, and despite your subtle joust, you cannot displace a phantom. The bodiless cannot be moved, so go ahead and move the mountain while I spell out your demise. Live the life you’re so damn persistent in gloating! Show me my failures and my faults! Make me face my own reflection, rub my nose, browned enough as it is, in my mounting mistakes. Show me I am worthless, and show me I am broken. Leave me discarded on the cold streets, and save me from my sorrow; deliver me from misery. Prove to me that I am wrong. Fight your way into my delusions and shake the very core of my being. Prove I am of worth. Guide me toward my potential. Prove the world is more than this bubbling liquid and empty chatter. Show me what I can do without; show what is most essential. Prove this life has meaning, and save a poor soul from the extinction of hopes.