With the sun glaring down, and the weight pulling down, I trudged on. Alone. Hundreds of strangers passed by, but not one knew my pain. Not one offered to help. When the weariness sets in and your head feels light, when you can feel your body sway and you reach for something to steady yourself–there’s no worse feeling than being alone and away from home. There’s no one to take care of you, no one to hold your hand. When you double over in pain or rest your sweating cheek against the vinyl seat, trying in vain to melt away from the anguish–nothing would bring relief more than a friendly hand on your shoulder. The panic and terror seizes you, the bags drop to the ground in scattered disarray, and somehow adrenaline carries you through. Your hand shakes, your body aches–and reality is vain disillusionment.

The day of reckoning is upon us. We will all answer for the decisions we have made, for the choices, for the actions, for the paths we have chosen. You will have to answer. I will have to answer. Will your answer hold up? Or will you look back in shame and embarrassment? People are counting on you, people are relying on you. Will your tender hand lead them astray? Will you ignore the protests, the murmuring in the night? Will you ignore the crying of the children as you disband their growing power? As you cover their light what answer can you give? I can only pray for mercy for the things we have done.

He sat there talking to himself. Hadn’t shaved in weeks, a dirty cap on his head, and his sneakers. They truly lived up to the word. His grimy toes poking out his sweaty socks poking out his dilapidated shoes. Those shoes. I watch him stamp out a cigarette under those shoes, and I see his toes wriggle as he does so. After seeing such a sight, how can I buy myself a brand new fifth pair of shoes? It just doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t make any sense.

The door swings open, and you step outside with a heaping laundry basket in your arms. As you struggle down the steps, your eyes happen to glance up to the sky–and for a moment, a single solitary moment you forget the headaches and hassles and see the beauty. An airy blanket of wispy clouds covers a small section of the bright blue sky. Sometimes we’re just too busy too notice.

My head still spins around, reeling, in a daze. The alarm blared early this morning, and I just smacked it off again and again and again. It wouldn’t make this twisted dream disappear, and I didn’t want to arise and face the day. A 5 o’clock shadow graces my face at 7 a.m., but I don’t care. Looking into the mirror is like peering into my soul. Unshaven, disheveled, and still in shock. Splash some water on your face and it doesn’t go away. I can only pray and hope that sanity will return.

This world is not my home.