Smoke

Sonder (noun)

The realization that each random passer-by is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

...

I am feeling everything, from my heart beating to my emotions broiling. As an observation, they are all socially corrupt - where as I am socially inept.

It is difficult to understand from anyone's point of view that we are all the same; we build up our lives, living them, and are het up in our own heads and forget that we are the same thing. We feel the same, not as emotions but in the long run, we all experience the same things. Take sight for example, we can all see (some not as well as each other) but we are all experiencing the same colours, theoretically, and shapes and we all see the same picture. I can look at an apple, knowing that it is red and it has a stalk and it has brown speckles on the top, and another person could observe the same apple and see the same things as me. Its almost as if we could all switch bodies and not see the difference (unless we looked in the mirror).

They never listened, or even cared for that matter. I had exposed my deepest secrets, with only rejection as my reward. I can't see myself as special, because we are all the same, but the differences between me and them are infinite...

I am always sad, it may be down to the fact that I am an introvert; I enjoy time alone, but having no-one to talk to can be dejecting at times. It's like I'm behind a pane of frosted glass, I am aware of my surroundings but nothing seems real or satisfying. Everything seems less than it is. I am empty - I walk around every day, my body a vessel for my mind, but I don't feel anything. I am numb.

...

I am sitting on a damp bench, the cold catches at my exposed fingertips as I try to light a match. My shaking hands reach into my cigarette box and pull one to my lips, light it and draw a deep breath. I let the smoke linger in my throat and exhale my thoughts with the thick bitter-sweet killer. I watch as middle aged men strut pompously past me in their thick winter coats, not caring to glance as my body trembles and teeth chatter - their breath like smoke but not nearly as harmful. The sun peaks through the skeletal silhouettes of trees, it is a golden orange that seeps across my face (warming it slightly) and glares over my dry, bloodshot eyes.

Anything to take away the depressive thoughts I'll try, not to aid stereotypes of the homeless, but the thought of ten minutes in paradise will take any poor man's fancy. I'll have to wait another day 'til I have enough. But that's not all I buy, I have my priorities straight; food, drink and warmth come first (especially in winters like this).

I get up, putting the remains of change in my pocket, and brush the dewy dampness from my bum wrapping my hoodie around me, so tight it becomes a second skin, pulling my hair toward my face to make me an invisible stranger. I get closer to the city centre and turn down an alleyway to avoid eye contact and stares of pity, but my stomach lurches when I see a man standing at the end of it. I try to swiftly edge towards a bin, but it's too late... he's already seen me. He clumsily advances, stomping drunkenly, I run but he has the upper hand. My heart in my throat and my brain painfully swelling in fear dulls my eyesight, and in a time which seems like nothing, I am knocked hard against the wall.

He flashes me a wicked grin, as he painfully pins me against the wall and I turn my head away as he edges his face closer and closer to mine, I can smell strong liquor on his hot breath. With his growling voice he whispers,

"What 'ave we got 'ere?" As he places his hand under my top, I grimace and struggle against his muscular body-