The lights were slowly plucked, one by one, from the room and darkness drifted in, like a shroud buoyed up by the breeze as it sank to the ground. But one light remained and promised never to go out. Here I could be a thousand versions of me. If I could but reach through the screen and clasp in my hands this world I had made. Then I could be her; then I would be her.
Sometimes I sit back and wonder at what life has stored up for me. I seem to wonder a lot about everything and, perhaps, I am letting life slip past because I am too pre-occupied with observing it. But surely the man who sits beside the river sees more of it than the fish, which are dragged to and fro by its currents, ever see. Besides, life has a tendency to be overwhelming and maybe it is safest just to stand back and let it flow past.
That is what I tell myself, anyway. But if I really didn’t care, I am not sure I would dedicate so much time trying to pursue normality. It is difficult for the staunchly abnormal to try to pursue normality. Normality is inanimate and thus cannot fully be obtained. But then when it is so close and everyone around you seems to embody it, you just want to feel it.