(no subject)
Title: Unsure.
Author: rudeminnesotan
Rating: weird?.
Summary: My brain is weird; no brain, so i had to just type to get it out. .
Notes: Feeling a bit down, I guess. This isn't edited or screened or probably even makes sense. I just typed without much thought. Free write, but. type. Though I did try to keep a theme going--a fan, or paparazzi? waiting for a group/artist/singer.
It wasn’t right. The time wasn’t right. He knew that, from where it was standing, standing and staring. It … It was too late. Of course it was too late. Why would anyone want him? He was just him and him was a nobody. Nobody would want to be with a nobody like him.
But that didn’t stop him from trying to look at others. At . him. At her. At them. He saw them all and …. Wonder. Why not me? WHY . NOT. ME? Why doesn’t I deserve this same kind of happiness that I can see everyone else having, experiencing, living, dealing, praying, staying, . living. Living living, living in happiness.
Oh, what is it time? No. yes. Yes. No. the time, what was the time? Was it time to be doing this? He wondered to himself as he looked from his watch to the door to his watch to the crowd to the door to his watch again. What was wrong with him, seriously? Why was he here? Why was he doing this? Should he be here? No, he probably should.
For a second he almost turned to leave. Almost. ALMOST He was ready but of course there was that little voice that said, ‘maybe they’ll see you’. Because that’s all he needed. He needed. Wanted. Wanted and needed to be seen. Oh, just to be seen by them. Them. Him. Her. To be seen for what he truly was. But he wasn’t what he truly was. He couldn’t be. He was a camera. A lense. A picture and a photograph. He wasn’t a person, not anymore, not to them to him to her. To anyone. He was ….
Color. Color and light and vibrancy and music and air and flowers and spinning. Spinning, yes, spinning. Spinning and noise and the crowd. The crowd, it was getting loud, it was getting restless. Was it time?
No, it was never time. It was never right. Their eyes. His eyes. Her eyes. They would never meet his.
The door, was it opening? No. yes. Yes it was opening. There they were. It was time; he brought the camera up to his eye and started to take pictures, photos, art, color, living, THEM!
The crowd surged, it pushed, it moved, it thrived. IT lived. IT was living. It wasn’t one person or 10 people or 100 people. It was one giant mass and it lived.
He was at the edge, right by the rope waiting. Waiting for this time. He took picture after picture, snap snap snap snap clack snap . pause, buzz, focus. Snap snap snap. They would never see him. Never meet his eye. Before he wasn’t a him. He was a nobody and nobody had a camera. A good camera. Expensive, very expensive; money, riches, wealth, fame, fans, pictures. That’s what they wanted. The crowd. That’s what they wanted. Them. Him. Her. Pictures to share with the crowd, with …. The fans.
The one; there. Him. That one. He thought pulling the camera closer as he focused again and snap, snap snap, took the pictures. Them. His. His his eyes him and his eyes, right there. Right at the camera. He waited and lowered the camera. He missed the picture because he. Him. Them. Her. He…. He saw his eyes.
Eyes-mirrors. The soul. Waiting, waiting, there. Fire. Flames. Life and happiness. Soul. Did they meet? Did they see? Did HE see? Did nobody see?
No, no one ever saw. He knew, he who is nobody. He knew. And he lifted the camera back up to take more pictures. This was all that mattered . him. Them. Her. The lights, the colors, the music, the vibrant, living, loving, happy, them.
Author: rudeminnesotan
Rating: weird?.
Summary: My brain is weird; no brain, so i had to just type to get it out. .
Notes: Feeling a bit down, I guess. This isn't edited or screened or probably even makes sense. I just typed without much thought. Free write, but. type. Though I did try to keep a theme going--a fan, or paparazzi? waiting for a group/artist/singer.
It wasn’t right. The time wasn’t right. He knew that, from where it was standing, standing and staring. It … It was too late. Of course it was too late. Why would anyone want him? He was just him and him was a nobody. Nobody would want to be with a nobody like him.
But that didn’t stop him from trying to look at others. At . him. At her. At them. He saw them all and …. Wonder. Why not me? WHY . NOT. ME? Why doesn’t I deserve this same kind of happiness that I can see everyone else having, experiencing, living, dealing, praying, staying, . living. Living living, living in happiness.
Oh, what is it time? No. yes. Yes. No. the time, what was the time? Was it time to be doing this? He wondered to himself as he looked from his watch to the door to his watch to the crowd to the door to his watch again. What was wrong with him, seriously? Why was he here? Why was he doing this? Should he be here? No, he probably should.
For a second he almost turned to leave. Almost. ALMOST He was ready but of course there was that little voice that said, ‘maybe they’ll see you’. Because that’s all he needed. He needed. Wanted. Wanted and needed to be seen. Oh, just to be seen by them. Them. Him. Her. To be seen for what he truly was. But he wasn’t what he truly was. He couldn’t be. He was a camera. A lense. A picture and a photograph. He wasn’t a person, not anymore, not to them to him to her. To anyone. He was ….
Color. Color and light and vibrancy and music and air and flowers and spinning. Spinning, yes, spinning. Spinning and noise and the crowd. The crowd, it was getting loud, it was getting restless. Was it time?
No, it was never time. It was never right. Their eyes. His eyes. Her eyes. They would never meet his.
The door, was it opening? No. yes. Yes it was opening. There they were. It was time; he brought the camera up to his eye and started to take pictures, photos, art, color, living, THEM!
The crowd surged, it pushed, it moved, it thrived. IT lived. IT was living. It wasn’t one person or 10 people or 100 people. It was one giant mass and it lived.
He was at the edge, right by the rope waiting. Waiting for this time. He took picture after picture, snap snap snap snap clack snap . pause, buzz, focus. Snap snap snap. They would never see him. Never meet his eye. Before he wasn’t a him. He was a nobody and nobody had a camera. A good camera. Expensive, very expensive; money, riches, wealth, fame, fans, pictures. That’s what they wanted. The crowd. That’s what they wanted. Them. Him. Her. Pictures to share with the crowd, with …. The fans.
The one; there. Him. That one. He thought pulling the camera closer as he focused again and snap, snap snap, took the pictures. Them. His. His his eyes him and his eyes, right there. Right at the camera. He waited and lowered the camera. He missed the picture because he. Him. Them. Her. He…. He saw his eyes.
Eyes-mirrors. The soul. Waiting, waiting, there. Fire. Flames. Life and happiness. Soul. Did they meet? Did they see? Did HE see? Did nobody see?
No, no one ever saw. He knew, he who is nobody. He knew. And he lifted the camera back up to take more pictures. This was all that mattered . him. Them. Her. The lights, the colors, the music, the vibrant, living, loving, happy, them.