none of these people have really never made much sense to me.
i've never been able to grasp onto what or how any of them felt or thought.
the weird, the normal, the nice, the pricks.
i have been secluded not by choice, mine or theirs.
but by some twist of fate or a chemical or astrological imbalance in the universe.
i feel as if most the time i look straight through people.
not to their souls or peer into their unconscious.
just through them.
they are as clear as window panes and all i can see is the scenery behind them.
sheets of empty glass floating through the streets.
dancing amongst each other careful not to touch and shatter into a miniature snow storm.
flakes and shards, but all the while still see-through.
only rarely do i find a stained glass window.
a window that i am incapable of looking through or past.
where instead the scenery from behind its view are shone through.
even if it were possible to look through and catch a a glimpse of the scenery behind,
it would hail in comparison of the beauty right in front of my eyes.
millions of colors lite up in a mosaic of pictures and stories.
everything that needs to be said about these people is presented at every moment, in full view.
even at night their beauty is transformed by the moonlight, showing me more each sunrise.
these windows i chose not to see through not on my free will but by some twist of fate, some chemical or astrological imbalance of the universe.
even in the dark i can sense their beauty.
the scales can tip on a universal scale.
the planets marbles of weight.
and a countless number of panes of glass gliding about.
careful not to touch.
careful not to shatter into those tiny cosmic snow storms.
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