(by Henry Rollins )
You are too short.
You had bad skin.
You couldn't talk to them very well.
Words didn't seemed to work.
They lied when they came out of your mouth.
You tried so hard to understand them.
You wanted to be part of what was happening.
You saw them having fun.
And it seemed like such a mistery, almost magic.
Made you think that there was something wrong with you.
You looked in the mirror trying to find it.
You thought that you were ugly.
And that everyone was looking at you.
So you learned to be invisible,
To look down,
To avoid conversation,
The hours, days, weekends.
Ah, the weekend-nights alone.
Where were you?
In the basement?
In the attic?
In your room?
Working some job, just to have something to do.
Just to have a place to put yourself.
Just to have a way to get away from them.
A chance to get away from the ones that made you feel so strange, And ill at ease inside yourself.
Did you ever get invited to one of their parties?
You sat and wondered if you would go or not.
For hours you imagined the scenarios that might transpire.
They would laugh at you.
If you would know what to do.
If you had the right things on.
If they would notice that you came from a different planet.
Did you get all brave in your thoughts?
Like you were going to be able to go in there and deal with it and have a great time?
Did you think, that you might be `the life of the party'?
That all these people are going to talk to you?
And you would find out that you were wrong,
That you had a lot of friends,
And that you weren't so strange after all.
Did you end up going?
Did they mess with you?