I think I have a lonely soul...

I spend more time reminiscing about things than I spend on socializing...maybe because it's a habit I failed to blame for my lack of close associations with people

Does every beginning of a story deserve an ending? I believe so, and I try to live by it

But giving a plot and an ending just because there was once a start, is it worth it?  After all the start might not be intended or might not be so great?

But it might be great in memory, so add an ending to it in memory as well, is that why I do the things I do?

Memories are not record of the past, but self-realization in the present, maybe? maybe not

Lonely crowd, that's what they call this city life...or is it faceless crowd? Either way, we are isolated in stacks of concrete cells at night...what are the identities and existences of the window lights??  is that why I like to stare out the window?

They say the computer screen is the other window in your room, but to these invisible network random chances?

Freedom is the void, it's the deep blue sea, and a night in the forest?

I am the kid being abandoned in a busy train station, insecurity eating me from inside out, too scared to cry, or too gasp for air...yes I have freedom, but I have no directions, I wish someone can pick me up and take me somewhere but I'm even more scared of that somewhere...so I only yearn to go back to where I come from, it might not be a nice haven but can't be as bad as the unknown, and certainly not as bad as the uncertain...

I don't understand sometimes, how can I be abandoned, didn't we grow into each other?

When we look at each other now don't we see the rest of the story?

Or are we just too busy avoiding each other's eyes?