Boston

I went to Boston for a Red Sox vs Cardinals game. It was this first time on many years I had been in a city where the local population was higher then that of my state. So as we were driving through the city to get to Fenway Park I was staring in awe at the tightly packed apartments and town houses and giggling at the roof top gardens and hanging plants in sitting room windows. Humans worked years and years distorting the land so as to erase all trace of the wild it was before us. They pound the land into a flat wasteland they build and rebuild and pave and repave until they have nothing else to build and pave. And after all that they plant trees in rows, make as many parks as they can, and plant marigolds on roof tops cause there isn't any ground room for then. And I wondered... what do all these people do? Do they have a purpose for being here? Can there really be that many jobs in one city?
  Then I shifted my attention to the people themselves. Three teenagers laughing and walking quickly down the sidewalk. Business men and women in suits and skirts on their cell phones looking unhappy and rushed. People running. People talking. People lost in thought. People everywhere. The rush and business was intoxicating for a few moments but then i noticed their hair... and their shoes... and hand bags.
I suddenly felt like a stranger. An unwanted and despised lesser lowlife.
 Everyone had perfect hair. Mine was in a ponytail. I unconsciously reached up and touched it.
 Everyone had perfect shoes. Mine where DC skate shoes i bought on clearance and had worn to work and gotten cocking and paint on them.
 Every women had a beautiful hand bag. I had a camo wallet poking out of my back pocket.
I didn't belong here and that was a fact. I would get judge and laughed at and I didn't like it. I started looking for homeless people cause I could fit in with them much better.
Was i silly? Did i over react? I just wanted to be a copy of everyone else and fit into their picture.