#party pooper

If I cannot find a seat in the room, is this event not made for such a guest? Do you make your own room, do you sit on the floor, do you steal someone else’s seat or do you quietly leave the room?

I haven’t had a lot to say lately. I found fresh air outside the packed room. I am not really sure what happened in there. Sometimes I peek through the window and my breath fogged up the glass. I tried wiping the steam off the glass but gave up halfway and started doodling pictures with my finger instead. 

Once in a while someone will look back at me through the clear parts of the window my finger has touched. Quickly they realize they are looking at my message backwards and retreat back into crowd. 

Sometimes passersby see me writing and my messages the right way. But they are all too busy with their own things and hurried on. “Cheers”, they say. They turn the corner and I never see them again. I wonder where they are off to.

I am not sure why I am standing here at the window. Fascinated by the hustle and bustle. When I look around and across the street I see others doodling on their windows, but they are all busy writing their own message, back towards me.

I’d hop on a bus and now I am on the inside of a window. Everyone seems to be walking so slowly. I find comfort knowing I am going somewhere. It usually end with me falling asleep on the bus and got woken up by the driver. 

Bruce: WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

Tim, mixing different energy drinks in a cauldron: You know there’s an indigenous word, used to describe people like you.

Tim:PARTY-POOPER