the disenchanted ones

I walk into a party and know I should be observing the youthfulness of social chatter and bonding of minds over the clinking of glasses. But instead I scan the room for the outsider elements, feel myself seeking out the estranged emotions in the room, the one’s who prefer to stay in the shadows, the flicker of isolation in a red and tired eye, those who are bored despite distractions, and hungry despite the chips and dip. I walk into a party and instantly look for the disenchanted ones. The pensive amongst the merry, the modest amongst the needy. And I always find them. And they always find me.