it's no use. i step outside and i feel a wave of nostalgia hit me. the electric sky lines. the humid air. the distant sound of children laughing. the youth walking home, hand in hand, carefreely and carelessly.

i sleep like a cat in the post of a train and im jerked back to reality once ive arrived at my stop. in the midst of these people, i feel lonely. an insignificant speck in the vastness of a crowd. in the midst of the connections most people would define as friends, i am existent but unnoticed. in the arms of a lover, i am held — but unseen. it's a two way bumpy street. i hear people but i could barely make out the semblances of their sentences. i speak to them and they look at me as if im speaking a foreign alien language.

do i beseech a lot out of life? i tilt my head at the sky and ponder whether it is a lot that i'm asking for. is the cure to interminable loneliness a deep desire to plunge inside the caverns of a person? or is it like the porcupine dilemma — getting too close gets you inevitably hurt, driving both asunder.

no matter how much i try to occupy and conquer the distant vertices of the void in my heart, it seems that the cosmos inside it grow bigger. when did it all start and is it a finite condition? does this ever come to a halt?