Miss Congeniality says that I’m a stalker. “Poppycock, my dear,” I replied, “I just happen to be observant.” And with downcast eyes, and a winning smirk, she then mouthed the word, “okay.” But I knew it wasn’t.

 “I have learned many things under the Sun,” said the youth at the back of the room, “and out of the many, one has stood out to me: that the citizen of a silent tongue consists also of a coherent mentality. It has been previously thought that he remains behind curtains as the entertainers take the stage. Yea, but star gazers have proven equally true of a seminar, whose irrational educations discharge into the void.” The assembly heard but did not listen. They saw but did not see. They were busy looking at the plastic atop their hands.

 The void forms the edge of a looking-glass world. From the hill of the forlorn oak, I saw the messenger cross the horizon alongside the gazelles and lilacs. They swept through the plane among the weeds and zebras, gracing all that met their presence. But not I, the hologram, whom the masses stare and pass through. It wasn’t that I didn’t know, it was that I was misinformed. Now I am left with the resentment of fake smiles and big laughs…

 It takes a sarcastic personality to spot an honest liar. Lying awake in bed at night can lead to many questions and disparities. It took too long to discover that I was lied to. I was told that I was a nice guy, and that there is someone out there for me. She told me that I had nothing to prove. Nice doesn’t begin to describe who I am. And if I really did have nothing to prove, why then, are you not with me?

 “School disgusts because it’s loud,” I heard one minor say within the Commons. “It’s not the teachers, it’s not the homework, it’s not even the fact that I have to wake up early. It’s because it’s loud. The innovation that excites is found amid the perennial corridors. Where in this establishment can a soul find solace?”

 “I have done many things in my lifetime, thus far. Not all of my actions shall become known to man.” So as it turned out, she had tickets to her own show. I must have mistaken her for someone that isn’t herself, a light that has died out millennia in the sea of ghosts. You’ll find my mistress where you won’t find my host. Start by looking in the center of a false city, at the angle of somewhere and anywhere. Please don’t ask me. For her sake, I shall remain under my rock. That way, she may enjoy the open air, so free and fleeting. A chasing after the wind.