It's a problem of curiosity. I want to know what you're doing. How you're living. See the ways in which you spend your time. Life, you see, is overpowering in its abundance of experiences. We are, each of us, a universe unto ourselves. I want to experience something outside of my own world, be a part of yours.
Sometimes I get stuck in my head. I can't get outside of myself to see what other people are thinking, or feeling. I know that you have thoughts. I know that you do feel. I just can't experience it.
Other times I care too much. I get outside of myself and I want to get inside of you. I want to know you intimately, both your heart and your head.
It is the way you act when you are alone that most interests me. Do you eat cereal at night while watching television? Do you talk to yourself, argue with yourself, berate yourself for all of your faults both real and imagined? Do you walk around naked?
Oh, to be a fly on your wall.
I can't decide if I need to remind you that I'm harmless a second time. Will it reassure of you, or will it make you think I'm trying too hard? You tell me.
I live in suburbia. I can't say it is the best place for people like me -- and there are many people like me. I can say it does offer some advantages over cities, or rural areas. The residential streets are often dark, filled with concealing shadows. Most people keep their curtains closed or blinds drawn, but not everyone. There are back alleys that run behind houses. These alleyways are a great resource. People are less likely to close their blinds on the backside of their homes, figuring who would be in the alley late at night. Me.
I've seen you. Yes, I've seen you. Alone. Lonely. I've seen you get dressed on a Friday night like you've someplace to go. I've seen you prop up your courage with alcohol. I've watched you walk to your front door only to hesitate. We both know there's no one out there waiting for you. You have no plans. I witness your hopes as they slowly fall to the floor like glass from a broken window. I've smiled as you change out of your weekend best and back into your running sweatpants and t-shirt, sit back on the couch with a frown and turn on the television.
You don't belong to the outside world. There is no one waiting for you. There is no one waiting for you. There is no one waiting for you. There is no one waiting for you. There is only me.
Ours is a one-sided relationship. I witness you, your actions and inaction, your terrible sameness and your shinning individuality. Have you ever done something and wondered, how many people have done this exact same thing? Is there ever a time when you answer yourself truthfully with no one?
When I want I can be invisible. You could look right at me and not see me, not know who I am or what I do. You might be near me at this very moment, but you'll never know. You'll never know until I want you to know and that might never happen. Or, it could happen tonight. Who is to say?
Take solace in knowing that you're not alone. You're not special. You're one of a hundred, a thousand. You're just another wall to another fly.
I am a fly.
You are a wall.
You are a galaxy.
I am a watcher.