The solitude of the socialite

Tiny sharp glances scamper through,piercing through the crowds, between the pizza, beer and gossip. Glances to make note of the million imperfections of every face in the crowd. Glances to note the innocuous comment, the skirts should they swirl and mouths if they should talk. Its the world where the individual is revered but where uniformity and conformity are worshipped. The party going socialite, stands by himself and herself....alone in the crowd..all ears and all eyes....detecting glances, shielding himself and herself, slobbering and slandering. Slobbering and slandering to villify and cast down those outside the earshot. Each unto himself, slandering together with the rest about the individual who stands without. More pizza, beer, beer pong and bed. More glances for the imperfections, more voices for the slander. The clock ticks by. The lone socialite waits, watches, listens, to pick up the slandering voices that would target him and her. There may be none...yet he slanders and listens...slanders and listens.