Daydreaming of daydreams

I wonder if people ever think of me.

Not in a sense of hatred

Or with true knowledge of anything concerning me.

No, I just wonder if they passed me by,

Saw me acting a fool,

And wanted to join in.

I wonder if I smiled at them,

And they wanted to see it again.

I wonder all of this, knowing it to not be.

I wonder this,

But for a different me.

For the me I was supposed to be.