Why can’t I be the invisible bass player no one cares about?

The guys are no doubt wondering where the hell I am, and it’s still a twenty-minute drive to the warehouse. My phone buzzes from the center console of my truck, and I look away from Ryen’s letter to see another text roll in. Narcissists don’t have insecurities, right? When the music stops and everyone goes home? When the day is gone and she doesn’t have anyone to entertain herself with? When she removes her makeup, taking off her brave face for the day, do the demons she keeps buried start playing with her when there’s no one else to play with? I know it’s pathetic to want a place among other people, and I know you’ll say it’s better to stand alone and be right than stand in a crowd and be wrong, but. No one cares.Īre they laughing at you? Talking about you? Are they sneering at you like their perfect world would be so much better if you weren’t there, messing up their view?Īre they just wishing you’d get the hint already and leave? To feel like you’re at a party you weren’t invited to. To be in a place full of people and feel like they don’t want you there. It’s just that…given all of her detestable attributes, she’s never alone. Mean, cavalier, superficial… The kind who doesn’t have a thought stay in her head too long or else she needs a nap, right? I’ve always been fascinated with her, though.Īnd don’t roll your eyes at me. Cheerleader, popular, gets everything she wants… I hate to admit this, especially to you, but a long time ago I wanted to be her. But I think negative feelings should be released. No, actually, it’s far worse, and I’m a little embarrassed to tell you.

I know you don’t have to sit there with your sister, man. So, have I ever told you my secret shame?Īnd no, it’s not watching Teen Mom like you.

Book punk 57