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01-26-11 - 16:14

It feels like spring.

The cold wind in my hair feels like it is blowing for someone else, and I am just in its wake.

Things pass by, and I am irrelevant as the brake dust on the wheels of my car.

I have several things to say, but mostly I just nod.

I am constantly absorbing, taking all in what others will give away. And not asking for reciprocity. Because what do I have to say, really?

They run by, blow bubbles, ride their bikes, play their games. And I watch, absently. The chapped cheeks, the watering eyes, do they notice?

If I do enough for everyone in my life, then I have purpose. Otherwise, I get passed by. Everyone has something but me. So I have them.

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