11.42 pm

She cut my hair, put me in a white dress and sent me out into the world. I shuffled about the streets, there were lights everywhere. The beauty of it all was disorientating. I felt confused and in awe. Then I saw you. And that’s when everything changed. Between the autumn leaves, you stared right back. Although the streets were busy, we stood there just curiously throwing glances at each other, for what felt like a life time. I don’t know you, and I will never get the chance too. Our worlds more counterclockwise, in fact you were walking the opposite way. But for that brief moment, everything felt just in an unjust world. It was just you and me, and for that second I was sure that was all I ever needed to feel alive.

1.12 am.

Bored out of my mind with everything, with all of you, out of my mind? Mind mind..when was I ever in my mind. How can you be in a mind when you were never really in anything at all.

I will stay like this for years. In a daze like nothing really matters, nothing is truly happening. There's a lingering feeling of anticipation but it's so distant you forget what you were excited about in the first place. That line - it's all happening. What the fuck is happening? Are you in the same world as I am? Can you not see that nothing ever changes. People walk through life, walk over friends, over feelings. They wash out their own because it's easier not to feel. Just to walk and keep walking until some one or something gets in the way. Then you start to remember what it feels like just to feel something, anything. Then it starts all over again. Is this living? Bumping and running into strangers for the thrill of a touch, the idea of some one, not that some one as a whole. It's seems the idea of something is much more enticing than the object itself. The calm before a crash or the look before a kiss. Maybe it's just me, but I love the idea of it all. I'm in love with the idea of life and of you and of everything in the spaces and gaps of this existence. Exist, I want to exist.

Hitchcock Girl.

And as you look back on the life you once loved and the girl you once held late at night, the train whistle blows and she starts to cry. She looks like a vision standing on the platform, waving feebly because she knows it’s the only thing she can do. You want to stop the train and scream out to her, tell her she’s a thief and that she stole your heart and you wanted it back, even when you know it was hers to begin with. The truth is it was always hers. But all you do is sit and stare blankly out the foggy window. It ain’t no good, it never was.

After all, you’re just a man, and she was something else.