In an Airport Terminal

I can spend hours alone these days. Time makes its way like an old friend. Confident, secure enough to know that a simple hello will suffice. No need to stay behind and talk about things we've both seen. Leaves me to think, to stare, to wonder.

I can watch the minute hand tick itself between numbers. I hear each mechanical click as the proof that life is measured by what we can accomplish before the sound stops. Because that's what it comes down to, right? How many steps you can take, how much money you can make, how many times you can fake a smile before it lands you where you want to be.

I can see right through it all. And through the transparency I see similarity. A mutual understanding that everybody is full of it.

Everybody is asking, "Is there really a true sincerity? A genuine kindness that exists for no reason other than being kind? None of this bullshit where people are nice because they know others are not; because they secretly hope that one day their altruism will pay off."

Everybody is answering, "I hope so."

I can answer, "I know so."

I see it as plainly as I see those who fake it. I see people who want it enough that they actually achieve it. I see it every day. I know that it's there and that I can see it, because nobody sees it.

That's the point.

Snippets

I'm a hopeless romantic who hopes that one day Romance goes back in style.

I'm a cynic who believes that mankind is actually kind of decent.

I'm skeptical of all things blatant, and make it blatantly obvious that I am.

I'm infuriated when people think their problems are baggage meant for two.

I get moody when people aren't as happy as I am.

I scoff at pretentious Indie fans and then drown them out with better music.

The time I spend analyzing things is indicative of how much I hate worrying about them.

I hate talking on the phone but get depressed when nobody calls me.

I'm afraid of rejection but always put myself in a position to be rejected.

I'm honest to a fault, and sometimes have to lie to myself about it

I dig up the past just long enough for it to become the present.

I spend way too much time trying to prove I have a quick wit...