Self-consciousness

People's eyes, they follow me home,
They eat from my fridge and use my comb.

They finger through my paperwork,
Check for dandruff in my hair,
They try to read my journal.
I try not to care.

People's eyes, they watch me on the street,
Oblivious strangers, that I will never meet.

And yet I can't escape their gaze--
In the bath, before the mirror--
I give them their opinions,
And it's that opinion that I fear.

People's eyes, they follow me home,
And inside I hear them them judge me, even when I am alone.