lest my mind wanders about.

I have always been the observer, the one who took all your photos, the one who saw it all through an imaginery glass panel from the outside, the one who cheered for every show you put on. Quietly, I wished I was part of everything, even if I may put on a nonchalant front. I could only looked from the side, wondering all the what ifs. I felt like an outsider sometimes. I supposed I will have to make do with the consolation prize - and who knows it may be taken away from me again. It may not be entirely the same thing, but still.

It wasn't that fun taking photos of you. Because I wanted to be in it, but I was - sorry, am not. Don't get me wrong. I am not bitter or angry or anything. Maybe a little jealous. It's nice to see you gleeing with joy, heaving huge sighs of relief. My hands were trembling as I snapped away, hoping everything went smoothly. And when the curtains closed, all I wanted to do was to rush and tell you what a great show it was.
My heart was beating so fast.

I supposed I can only see from afar, imagining what it'd be like.
(And for everything else.)

I hate to be alone, and apart,