them. with their picture-perfect smiles that light up rooms, but distungish fires inside me. them, with their synchonized hair and style they all picked out together. them, them, together. what do they have that i am missing? why do they live such different lives when i myself do everything to satisfy them in my own mind? them, who have taken property as an audience in me. them, who i crave validtion and acceptsnce from. them, who i want to be. them, who i wish could just see me. them, which i would finally feel valued from. them, who seems to rule me without feigning indffierence. them, who will never arrive, nor exist.