Why do I still come here?

Why do I still come here?" He thought to himself.
He looked around at all the talent around him, at all those laughing and crying. "I remember when I first met her," he said pointing at someone on the other side of the room. "The things we would talk about, the things she has been through and I like to think I helped her with." He looked around the room some more. "I remember him, he was having a lot of trouble with life, now look at him. He is loved, has someone to call his own. His art is still great." He said smiling.
He sat down near a wall looking at all those he once talked to almost on a daily basis. Seeing how much they have done and changed. He then looked down at his own hands. "I guess I have changed as well, I will miss all of them, but life has gotten out of these hands and I no longer have much time to spend here." He said with a tear. "I will worry for all of them and hope the best for them as well. I wish I did not have to go." He said as he stood up. He waved a goodbye to the crowd, he was not sure anyone saw it. With a walk to the door and slow push open he walked away from what was something that brought him great happiness. Now it only makes him live in depression knowing he cannot help them all, nor can he spend time talking to them. The door closed behind him, the wold before him looked cold and alone. He took it in stride knowing there was not much else he could do. "I only hope the ones I meet here are as kind as all of you were."