1:30 AM

The rain falls hard against the window. I hear nothing. There are patterns in these silver tracks, but I can’t articulate how they go, exactly. Two hours after midnight; I see vehicles on the road. Who are these people? Where are they going? Why do I ask myself these things?

The air-conditioning unit hums loudly. I miss my home. I was there 24 hours ago.

I see empty corner offices from here. What would I do if someone walks up that window, and grins evilly up at me? What if lovers plaster themselves against the glass, and strip each other naked? What if a child stares up at me from below? What if I tell someone, and no one believes me? What if, when I turn around, those people are behind me?

The room is bright with white light. A plant is wilting beside me. Ugliness spreads before me. This city is far from pretty.

It’s raining hard outside, but I can’t hear a thing. If I reach out, I’ll feel the cool glass. If I open a window, I’ll see an ignored message. If I google her name, it adds nothing to her life or my own. What I have now, is this moment. A period of time that slips by even as a I type away on this blog. People have talked about being present in every second, and that’s what I’m doing now.

Just as quickly, I realize it’s not for me.

I have stayed the same over the years. This thought comforts me. It seems that I’ve known myself way before I started thinking of who I’d like to be.

Police lights flash before my eyes, and I can’t hear a thing. This feels like a dream I once knew. Yesterday, I dreamed of family– how friends are family. How family are friends. How family and friends are worth dying for. Who and what am I protecting? What do I live for?


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