BEING ME

I walk in solitude, the road seems deserted I appear to be lonely but really I'm at peace.
There's a sea of people all around me yet I neither hear nor see my company.
I sit at a spot, dreaming for hours People think I'm lost but I am simply being me. When I stare into space, dissolved in fantasy I feel blissfuly satisfied, like there's nothing that i need.
I don't indulge in conversation. Socializing, as a concept, is alien to me. Silence connects me in a way that words never could.
Music floats in my mind, time and space cease to exist.
While walking in a crowd, my interest quickly fades.
I get bored and monotony sweeps over me.
When i am alone I feel at one with the surroundings.
At time the trees even whisper to me. Sometimes it's just so frustrating why people don't understand my need for space, a room of my own.
Phone, Internet and other technology has destroyed the peaceful recluse.
The charm of handwritten letters is an endangered rarity
I feel lost in a group of people who could never understand the way I feel.
They force me to join them, thinking they are being kind to me.
People express pity thinking I'm a loner.
They don't realize that I'm simply being me.