Communication....(is there anybody out there?)

I was waiting in a mall.
Mistake number one.
I was thinking.
Mistake number two.
A band was playing an event (would you call it an event? I'm not even sure what you would call it) within one of the stores and I thought, after just working an eight hour shift in customer service, "What the fuck? These 'kids" get to play music for a living. Meanwhile I've been playing for sixteen years and, although I've been in bands and can play quite well, no one has the time to really devote to it-thus it never goes anywhere." I tried to get my mind off of things by going to the bookstore down in the dregs of the mall. This would be mistake number three. There I found a woman reading aloud to a group of eager senior citizens. Whether they were eager because they loved her work or whether it was due to the fact that they didn't have long for this world I don't know...all I do know is that she had an audience, at least for the time being. As I sat alone on one of the benches I thought about how each book represented a dream and that, even though there were probably a hundred rejection letters which accompanied each of those dreams, they had found a way to get out, to have a physical body in which to come across to the world. Each body I've tried to give to my dreams has been aborted, by me or some other, and I slowly noticed in that book store that I've apparently stop creating bodies. I never planned to give up. It wasn't something I decided one day. "Hey I love being creative..how about I just stop creating and get a run of the mill job so I can try and please people who can't be pleased!"
Nonetheless now I find myself staring at walls at 3am while receiving endless friend requests on Face Book of people from High school who needed marriage and babies the way a crack addict needs a fix.
I left the book store and wandered, lost in thought. If I wasn't in a mall one would've most likely noted that I resembled a zombie. But in a mall everyone is a zombie...for one reason or another.
It's hard to breathe life back into something that's so close to being nothing more than a whisper in a crowded stadium.