Just There

I wish I were there. Wherever the there my friend had said, the there which is not here, apparently. He said to me nonchalantly, “You’re just there. You need to be there.”

I wish not to be just there. I wish to be there. I wish to know what he thought of me, to know if I’m really just there and not there.

I wish I knew what it’s like to be there, completely and unconditionally. The there which other people seemed to be. Like how you had registered a presence and acknowledged them. Like how you noticed the president because he was there. A speech said in front of millions, of course you know he’s there. But in the millions who listened, a bunch might not be there. A bunch might pass what he said to the other ear and out. A bunch might have just sat there and just heard some voice.

In a crowd of people with a lot in their head, they had to have noticed passersby. Because they were there. A presence of someone being into something and not just be a floating space or an invisible entity. A presence of being really there.

Am I the only one who is not there yet?

I wish to know why I had to be there.

I wish to know why I am just there and not there.

I wish I can be there tomorrow so that my friend may be appeased.

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