(no subject)
Sometimes I pretend that I am the only one awake in all of the world late at night. Everyone else has their eyes closed, their eyelashes are gently moving inside of their dreams, and I am watching Eraserhead in bed, I am holding my breath under bridges, through tunnels. And when the eyes of the world open, when their eyelashes blink at a normal speed, when their hearts pace as they run and walk, I breathe again and my eyes close, and I dream my dreams. Sometimes I test life to convince myself that I am real, that I am alive, that I am human, that I am vulnerable too. I close my eyes when I drive sometimes. I walk in the middle of the street at night. I whisper when I talk. I smile secretly and I sing the songs from Belle and Sebastian. I create my own world so that I can ignore this one, the one that you belong to, the one where the wind moves my hair and I blink under the sun and you carefully button your shirts, carefully tie your shoes, carefully put your belt through each loop. But in my world I have no pockets, I carry things in my hands, books are bigger than the moon, babies explode into flowers, and when I tap my shoes Neil Diamond pops out of the red hydrants and sings to me.