Pedestrian

Macabre nights

It's impossible to feel alone when the sounds of mankind can constantly be heard. Rain falls like the dust from old dolls houses, it's nostalgic yet melancholy all the same. I gaze softly upon the roads, splattered with tarmac, the roads that have probably cut through dozens of ecosystems just to encourage more people to use them and destroy some more habitats. Somehow, every night, I think of something new, it's either a task so fruitless it would almost be embarrassing or an obstinate question that I somehow blurt out of thin air. Nevertheless, it's still dark outside, too dark; it's almost lifeless. Yes, almost because life is amongst it but life is still. There are no cars, all the living things are unconscious, tucked away soundly in their beds. But here I sit, possibly the only living creature awake within at least a square meter, watching and scanning.  If you look at something for a prolonged period of time it's almost like the meaning of it completely shatters, look at a word and say it over and over and over, you lose the meaning of it, possibly it's your brain trying to work out why you bothered to say the word that many times, is there a hidden meaning? No, it's a word. Just a word. Here I am, just a life. Currently awake, currently tired. I am a pedestrian, but occasionally I am pedestrian. My life holds no actual meaning, how do we know what true happiness is? We don't, we really don't...regardless, it is getting late, too late, I'm beginning to see signs of life, little lives, thrashing about beneath the thickets. I guess I'm not so special anymore.

Beginning a day is like attempting to start a thirty year old classic car. You have hope for it, but you never know if it'll actually start well. Starting a day well is something I struggle with. Luckily for me, I know exactly where to go and what to do, I'm on that conveyer belt of young people. I walk, catch a train, walk some more, sit down about a dozen times, talk to the odd person and walk back to the train station...yes, I missed out the fact that I study...or should I say 'study'. Do I feel fulfilled when I 'study'? I think the fact I occasionally feel fulfilled is due to the fact that I succeed sometimes and get a high mark. Maybe I'm missing the point of working out how to do vectors in mathematics but why at my fine age can I not cook? Is that my parents' job? What if my parents can't cook either? Hmm, I feel like if I were to talk about anything in here, it should be interesting and not a sweaty teenager aggressively shaming a system that is running out of money.

I always seem to appreciate things more openly than a great amount of people. Once I found myself impulsively looking up train videos online, it stunned me. I felt special knowing this information, I feel like if I was younger, people would make me a metaphorical pedestal for me like I'm a ground-breaking engineer.  Come to think of it, I hardly speak to my parents. They're interesting people but they baffle me sometimes. I think about them sometimes, when I can't sleep. I toss and turn almost by the second, I'm always cold. Never lonely...never lonely.