Sunday, June 10, 2007

Even if they aren't thinking it, I imagine they're thinking it. They're thinking what I always think. One glance at me and they figure what happened to them that day is annoying and they are alone on a busy bus. And in their secluded world of self-pity they melt into a loneliness that they ask for themselves, but they still believe no one else can help. And I realize, that we all have fragments on shattered memories and broken friendships and occasionally we all fall or bump into poles and you can't decide that you're alone. Because that's Selfish.

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