I can feel.

I walk through the darkened halls.

I can feel them.

Staring.

Laughing.

Whispers.

I can hear them all in the back of my mind.

Snickering.

Judging.

Hushing.

I can feel them behind me.

Walking.

Kicking.

Pushing.

I can feel them to the very core of my soul.

And they can feel me.

Awkward.

Different.

Asexual.

Lesbian.

They do not care that I have my reasons.

Hostile.

Groping.

They do not know what it was like.

Violent.

Crushing.

Scarring.

They do not care how terrified I was.

Ashamed.

Obliterated.

And just as they don't know me, I know nought of them.

Strangers.

Parallel.

Independent.

And so it is I live.

Surrounded by hundreds of other bodies, yet alone.

Solitary.

Outsider.

Broken.