Dear Reader,
I’m not allowing myself to breathe. None of us are. We all have some chain holding us back, often one of our own design. One we can never break. It’s constricting, suffocating. It will never let us go. Or maybe it’s us who won’t let go. Maybe it’s us who’ve become so familiar with our pain that we’ve accepted our shackles; we’ve romanticised our struggles into something unrealistic. We’ve created this web of solitary indifference; a city of tears. It’s come to the point where everyone feels it to a varying extent, but nobody will talk about it, for fear of breaching the taboo. For suffering in silence is glory. It’s almost treated with a joking manner. For one second, I’ll break my cosplay as ‘just another face in the crowd’. I have Asperger’s syndrome. As a result of this, I have an obsession with words (and numbers, and film quotes, and other stuff). There’s a word that keeps getting stuck in my head: wanderlust. This feeling of being blissfully alone and independent. With the ability to go wherever you want to go. The euphoric feeling of being on an island; your own world. You’re not locked in, everyone else is locked out. The city of tears makes me feel that way too. The eternal rainy day reminds me of the sunny island of independence. But that’s just me. Who are you?
With love,
The guy on a laptop in that café.
Just Another Face in the Crowd 