Night at a Bar

If I went by myself it would be different. A persona I have never had before would be portrayed in front of strangers. They would delight in my presence and forget about me by the time they talked to the next girl.

But instead I bring company and, as per the usual, decide that the reason we are here is for them. Like a prophecy coming to fruition, the Christ is in front of me and I am only a disciple.

The metaphor is understood by my buzzed mind. It is simple. I don’t ever deserve these things. These new friends and conversations and moving realizations.

I deserve the back seat. The third wheel. I am always the friend, not the girlfriend. The one silently praying in the back while everyone else socializes and speaks with all those that God loves and wants His children to show His love towards.

But all I can do is hide with a frown and my notes app in the corner of the room.

I know that no one will notice me.

I am invisible. The follower. The backstage assistant.

The one who will be forgotten.