I Remember What It Was Like Up There.

I remember what it was like up there. I ended up feeling nothing. Should have felt like I'm on the top of the world but all of it was an illusion, in an instant I knew. The texture of deception was bare, I felt its attempt to fill me in. I didn't let it. In an instant I knew, I didn't belong there, and still don't. You were trying to ease yourself into the reality, or maybe it was my reality. I began looking around, towards the faces who had the contempt that they belonged. The way they crossed their legs as they nod, for them, this was their life and maybe they were happy. But I saw it on their faces, as they worked so hard to earn the place they are, no time left to question the reality.

And here I am, writing about them. The stories not behind but beyond the faces intrigues me. Did they listen to music the way I did? Did they think the music could have been better? Did they, for a second, think about how it would be like if they were, too, down there? As they kept staring from above; to the sea, artificial beams of light, they looked away from the apparent shadows of unfound.