Not that I don't enjoy the attention, it's just that after four years of watching the same crowd from above you start wondering if you were ever down there, that high, that joyous, that young, jumping up, jumping down, head over heels, the heat, the sweat, the screams, the flesh.



And yet I'm treated as if I am the heart of it all, its heartbeat under my fingers. I click, they jump,I click, they scream, I click, I jump, I click, I scream. I don't know all the words anymore, at least not like they do, and still they look up to me from so far away. Every so often I feel another stranger on my side, sometimes a hug, sometimes a flash, sometimes a bottle on my lips, same alcohol, different colors, sometimes a pat on my shoulder, sometimes a stinking breath, sometimes a wet shirt, sometimes a soft body next to mine, sometimes a wild drunk crawling up my back, all reminding me that I'm physically there, if not mentally...

Sometimes I raise my head to find you, sometimes I feel like I just caught your eyes and I look back, sometimes I feel like you're watching me. You're never there, never watching me, never. Oh well, noone's there anymore, not you, not S., not Sh., not me.
We're all gone. We're all done.