the silence.

some days he wonders about the people who, for a moment, where the only other person in the world. he wonders about those who he's shared late-night conversations about nothing, glimpses from across crowded sky trains, stories of every bit of their lives. and he hopes they're happy. maybe they too think of him sometimes, remember him just a little, possibly ask themselves "I wonder what he's up to now". but who is he kidding, the people never wonder the way he hopes they do, they never glimpse back on the pointless moments that meant everything to him. he's a time capsule never meant to be opened, only kept for the sake of collecting.  the hallways feel empty even at their most crowded from all the new faces without a place inside him. he's trying to place one foot in front of the other, get from A to B, but the walls are intricate. the metal walls that get thrown up every time he tries to do something new, learn concepts those plenty other faces light up with every day. he'll be okay, somehow, he's always made it through. now he has a reason to try.  <3 <3