41 Candles Quiet boy, in fear, in fascination Who is to know? The shun is real The feeling of pain is real? I live and have lived counting colorful circles when I close my eyes - and dream dream of love, what I perceived love to be, what I perceived friendliness to be, to not understand when kindness is foolish to some, I always feel to be the stranger, the satire the sarcasm, and the saturation for exploitation of every misstep. Shining light straight to my every move. Yet, to feel ignored is the most smoke in this fire. There is something in the music to keeps me moving inside, when the outside world shuts off.