Lonely fame.
Though...
Maybe it's nice, I mean really really nice to stand an arms length away from everyone else. You stand and watch, looking into empty vessels, souls sucked out through the straw of the mini-screen. You see yourself in the glaze of their zombie-nac droning, a mere cliche to climb over, because they "know you", and they mull around their mouth jolly rancher-style. Then... forget.
It's then, finally, you know that it's okay to be apart from everything and everyone. You find that it's easier to not mindlessly cloy and like like like tag tag tag to love yourself. You don't need THEM to need youself. In the end, you have this hilarity, a weird exhilarating tickle at your funny bone, in the face of everything typical and mindless about others, and knowing this gives you absurd amounts of strength.
You're alone, but irony of it all keeps you warm at night.
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