I Wonder If I Am Really Doing Anything With My Life Or If That's Kinda The Point.

I am watching people in the palm of my hand. Tiny fingerlings. They laugh. They sing. They create art from the comfort of my bedroom. I am eating and I am watching and I am allowing time to evade me because they look so joyous, frozen in time, that I close my eyes and fantasize that I may be them. They are artists. They are friends I once went to school with. They are doing really cool things and I am watching them and I am eating and I am fantasizing about living that life and instead, I am gazing into the reflection of the person in the bowl and today, he made a paper chain with red and pink construction paper to liven up his room a bit more. And he is stuck frozen in time like the little people in the palm of his hand. I fill my head with noise and when there is silence I fill my head with more noise and the noise helps me sleep, I think. It makes time go by faster even if and when I just want it to slow down. And I think I just want it to slow down. I am watching a person in the palm of my hand. He looks a lot like me, but softer. His eyes are brighter. His smile is more jovial. We share the same whimsy. The same fear of time evading us. I want to tell us, we are here. Mundane. Watching little people experience joy as we eat our dinner alone in our apartment. We are here. We are here. We are okay. 

end.