Did I offend you?

Did I offend you?

Is that why you looked at me so harshly when I walked into the room?

I was in a good mood.

I felt good about what I was wearing and how I had done my hair.

My make up took extra time, but once done, I thought it was worth it.

And then your faces emerged when I arrived.

You, a collective of sorts.

You looked at me so blankly.

First my face. Then my top, my jeans, my new high heel shoes.

Back up again your eyes trailed so cold.

All along I watched you.

All along you didn’t care I knew.

My body tensed.

I shuffled and looked down.

Obviously something must be wrong.

My confidence waned.

I stumbled.

All the while you still looked.

“What?” I screamed in my mind.

“What’s wrong? What the hell are you looking at?”

I felt worried.

I felt nervous.

I felt insecure.

I felt giddy.

I felt nauseous.

I felt ten vodkas slip down my throat because of you.

All of you.

These weren’t looks of admiration.

These weren’t looks of acknowledgement.

These weren’t looks of kindness.

These were looks of scorn.

Of distaste.

Of humiliation.

Of resentment.

Of hatred.

Of years of living in a tiny bubble of contempt.

“How sad!” I screamed, pissed and confused.

Every time I looked up someone was looking or looked away.

Some stranger glaring my skin blue.

Snearing my face red.

Glaring my hair messy.

Until finally I crumbled and stumbled and grumbled and mumbled and made them all feel better about themselves so they could stop staring and look somewhere else.

I arrived so calm and confident.

I left a drunken mess.

Confused.

Afraid.

Bewildered.

Caught!

In their narrow minded insecure fuss!