Forty Four

I've been capturing glimpses of people just walking by, staring at their phones. The fuck do I know what they're seeing on their phones. It's something that I don't wanna know, but that's merely for the sake of protecting a part of me that likes to invade other people's privacies.

I pass by familiar faces but never fully knowing their names. I have no idea what they do with their lives, and it's something I would have to contemplate with for the rest of my life even if it meant putting myself through a guillotine to experience the pain of torture and agony.

I have resorted to very extreme measures to keep my real identity a secret from people. Because a part of me feels like they already know too much, and by too much, I feel like I might start breaking apart, little by little, fraction by fraction, until all that is left is nothing but a single pile of dust.