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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. |