Miss Aida
I am a watcher.

It's what I am. I enjoy watching people. No, I'm not a voyeur. Not that kind of watching. I am an observer of people. I enjoy being on the sidelines, watching people walk by and imagining their individual lives, stretched out in front of them like threads. Some threads are interwoven, some shining, some frayed at points, and some abruptly cut off. I enjoy watching the expression on a person's face, listening in to conversations, not so much the subject matter as the intonation in the individual's voice. Watching body language and how people interact.

Sometimes I get so caught up in a conversation that I forget I am not merely a person watching in the audience, I am part of the play and it is as if I am an actress who has forgotten her lines. Smiling, I participate, so I can return to listening. I enjoy hearing what people have to say, and how they say it, and it seems like the conversations of life are exactly like the conversations from a sitcom, except for the fact that they are indeed real, and that I am part of them.

Perhaps it affects who I am, and how I relate to people. Sometimes I feel separated, as if I am an audience member watching my own self interact with others around me, like a separate entity and the person I am watching is going through the natural motions of yet another person. Sometimes walking down the street seems surreal, as if the blue of the skies are much too bright to be a reality, the greens and reds and yellows of the world seem too vibrant, too daunting, too beautiful to be part of the world, and I am instead in some artificially constructed environment. And sometimes my separation leads to distractedness and somestimes to an added rationality to certain circumstances.

I'm pretty sure I'm sane. Reality is such a fragile construct, a reality based on personal experiences and thoughts and ideas. Being too sensitive, too involved, to the lives of others, those who I know and those who I don't, definitely takes its toll on my reality. It's a playground for my imagination. I know it is my imagination, but it is a game I enjoy playing. Rationality is a very fine line we all tread; the difference between madness and sanity is very little.

Sometimes I have difficulty relating to this reality.
Numb.

And sometimes I have problems connecting to emotion.
Cold.

And sometimes, I wonder if I am losing touch of reality entirely.
Watcher.
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