Beautiful Pressure.

No, he never felt like he belonged to the Crowd at all, although no one had a say in that of course. It was a naturally pre-determined thing, you were either in it or you were not.

And yet he could not help but look at other members of the Crowd and feel like he was somehow different. They were all cool, and effortlessly so. They never made any gaffes, or if they did they were suitably and hilariously goofy, never embarrassing, and never anything to be ashamed about.

He could not help but feel like he on the other hand was doing too many things which were unpleasantly embarrassing, like that time he played football (which he was not terribly good at) and missed 3 easy shots at goal. He was sure everyone was looking at him and laughing at him. And they laughed particularly loudly at him too, compared to the other guys who made mistakes.

He never saw other members of the Crowd get into situations like that. They almost always were good at the sports they played, and would never be seen playing something they couldn't. How did they manage that?

He always felt like people were looking at him, that when they were they did so with great expectation, that when he failed they laughed their vengeful mocking laughs. One of the Crowd failing so miserably. He could never be merely mediocre at anything, for that would be considered failure in their eyes.

He felt their eyes on him always. And the pressure. The pressure to be brilliant, to be beautiful, to be wittier, and stronger, in every way superior to the others. Cause that's what it meant to be part of the Crowd. You could not be worse than the rest, you could not even be just the same as the rest of them. You were superior and you were supposed to look down on them, past your perfect nose, and twist your perfect lips with a sneer as they try to be like you. Oh no, you were nothing like the rest of them.