There’s a certain rush in sitting at a crowded place, all by yourself. Watching a dash of life pass by every moment. Couples lost in each other, people waiting for others, with a look of being lost on their faces. Girls all decked up, men letching, friends fighting over directions. The clock ticks, the seasons change, expressions remain the same, wherever you go. I crave the cacaphony, I hate being all by my own.
I frantically try to look busy; I tell myself I am not on my own, these are peope like me.
But they look so different. They are judging me. I feel pretty now, ugly then. My self worth is not mine. The girl on the corner is still waiting for her friends, and that makes me uncomfortable.
I also feel a strange sense of belonging. I am not the only one lost. She’s there with me.
Now she has left. Left me.
I should not have had any expectations. On my right, I see friends embracing, it takes me back to the times when we had time for each other…
Fingers in symphony 