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I stand on a rooftop and look down on the world.


Submitted:Nov 19, 2010    Reads: 275    Comments: 63    Likes: 19   


I stand at the edge of the roof. Cold wind bites at every part of exposed skin. Snow swirls and settles around me. Looking down the people look like ants that scurry and bustle, living their daily lives unaware of me watching.

The muted sounds of car horns and traffic float their way up to my ears, harsh and discordant compared to the illusion of silence that blankets me.

I throw my head back and stare into the grey clouded skies above. Snow flakes, each and every individual one different from the other but their lives are short and inconsequential. They exist and when they melt and disappear most make no significant difference to anyone's life. My life stands at the edge and I see the parallels, life in comparison to the age of the earth is short and most people make no significant contribution to history. I am one of them but the length of my life is still undecided.

This spot is isolated and reflect my thoughts. Cold and bleak. I consider the metres to the pavement as I have often done. Sometimes I wonder if I just took a step forward into the space in front of me whether anyone would care, whether anyone would even notice. So busy with their lives, they don't notice, they do not see. I paste a fake smile on my face and act. The smile never reaches my eyes, they do not notice, they do not see.

They see the person I pretend to be. The always happy go lucky personality that will always cheer them up. They have no wish to see further, occasionally I give them a glimpse of the real me. They ask me 'what's wrong', I tell them 'nothing is wrong' and reapply an empty smile before changing the subject, when all I want to do is yell from this roof and tell the world 'what isn't wrong!' They still do not notice, they do not see.

I've become tired of the charade but still, I play the game. I am who they allow me to be, not who I choose to be, not what I am forced to be but only who they allow me to be. I can only show the mask and I am tired of it. They do not notice, they do not see.

I can never tell. I do and they hate who I am, so I do not. They are the friends of the person I pretend to be not the inside of me. The real person I am shows sometimes but they just look at me odd and say to 'stop being weird'. They do not notice, they do not see.

I am trapped within myself by their expectations.

I'm done pretending, I'm done.

I shove my frozen hands into my pockets and close my eyes.

They do not notice, they do not see.

Like a snowflake, I fall free.

(A/N:Please comment and let me know what you think. Thank you!)





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