There are many pathways in my lenses as we speak. Some gravel, some with flowers along either side, some more red than others, some blue. Maybe one leads to the next one, and or maybe more than one path cross over one another, and or coexist at the exact same time. I'm being molded and I'm not sure who's in control. I choose to have a Friday at the desk. So what does it mean? Isolation for a day from the group? The acquaintances? Or is it a break, for me, and my individual self, and my stability? I need stability, and this comes when I'm alone.
It's a different sensation, being in your room with the door open, hearing all the words from your peers across the hall, through that laundry room.
"Liam stole one of my room mate's shoes. And he's piss drunk."
And he continued running laps with his knees up.
What do these people mean to me? Why were we chosen to bundle together, bonding, in these two hallways, carpeted Christmas green and Christmas red?
Who or what is in control? What do my actions and their consequences result in? Do they hold significance, to you all, or to myself, just a little, if at all? What will my filling of the water filter while someone is ironing their shirt in the laundry room do? What will unfold from that one, specific hello? The laws of causation are freaky. Say you choose to leave your house with your right foot instead of the left one, on a given day? Some say there are at least two outcomes for every action. Some say that other path, the one not taken, is an alternate reality. To be, or not? To walk left, or to stand right? Mind the gap? Colour in the lines? No means no?
What in the world?
Eyes heavy, still here, and becoming,