Seriously. Rhyme.

I didn’t connect, but that doesn’t make it bad. It makes it not me.

The author clearly knows her atmosphere. Poets must.

It isn’t the bar scene that missed me, by the way. It was the ending, which isn’t shown in the picture.

Her desire to be anyone other than who she was when she entered. That’s some deep emotional energy that tends to result from guilt and shame.

In that case, I can relate.

But it’s my desire to be only me.

While the world tells me to reconsider.