"I've been losing sleep dreaming..."

Some midnights I like to sit by my window and observe how dead the streets appear, a welcome change from the normal chaotic routine cars usually fall into. The streetlights are still blinking, seemingly oblivious to the dark desolation of their surroundings. It's calming, yet tragic. It's a reminder that stressful times with no space to take a breather will pass. But at the same time, it feels like something is missing. You can't quite figure out what.

There's an almost unsettling feeling entering the room with the subtle wind. Unsettling thoughts accompany it, which is pretty much a nightly routine of mine. It's creepy how at the end of the day, we're just floating around in space, a black hole of nothingness. It's also kind of horrifying that one day you could wake up and live an average day, then something horrible could happen and you would never see another average day again, be it due to death, serious injury, or some other personal affliction. And what about all the people around you who will never truly know everything about you? Sure, you might tell one person everything, but they don't know what goes on in the depths of your mind, or the thoughts you would never dare to repeat.

Chances are, you don't even know the people around you. The loud, noisy boy in class who always makes stupid jokes about how weird his friends are? Maybe he's insecure and wants to divert attention away from his flaws and towards his personality instead, even though his behavior isn't a good indicator of it. The cheerful, bubbly girl who has plenty of friends? She might feel like none of them are her friends at all. You never know who's in a dark place. Maybe you're the one in a dark place and you don't realize it.

Then it sinks in that someone close to you might need you more than ever and you'd be completely unaware of it. Maybe they're drowning in pressure and need someone to pull them out before the tide gets too high. What if it's already gotten too high? What if they're already losing themself bit by bit, like a saw turning a block of wood into a pile of dust?

The sound of a car horn or a door slamming usually pulls me out from my waterfall of unanswered questions. It's like I was in some sort of third space in which time moves a lot slower than it does in the real world. Like a... gray space. Yeah, that's the way to put it. But how many other people are in a gray space right now, be it an absent state of thought like me, or caught up in the war inside their head? Time for another waterfall, I guess.