Hello, Stranger.
I don’t have much to say about you, really. Aside from the basic facts made known to me by the short time we have shared as we walk pass each other, I guess I don’t have much.
Hello, Stranger. Hello to you and to your share of life which I don’t know, and chances are will never get to know. Hello to our parallel universe. Hello to our salutations of one another’s existence, stubbornly coasting on the shore of mere recognition, (or the imminent ignorance of it).
When I look at you, I see someone who loves another so deeply, so purely and marvelously, that I must always thank Chance I am permitted to know, through you that love.
The distinction between familiarity and strangeness is hot and cold, happiness and loneliness. Hello to this distance. Hello to this profound sorrow. Hello to the rainbow we both hold at each end. Hello to here and there.
Hello to you, Stranger but you don’t have to smile. Don’t cast those eyes on the floor, Stranger, because it’s just me who looks at you, alone. Walk slowly Stranger, I am no thief of your time. I tread my own steps (away from you) and not pry. I’m trying, Stranger and tomorrow I will hopefully be walking a different sidewalk from yours. But I will remember you, Stranger.
Hello, Stranger, I am just like you— a mere memory of fleeting glances which promise an amount of insincerity worthy of symptoms of this growing hurt, of appalling disdain that takes our individual lives to oblivion of the forthcoming past.
Hello, Stranger. Hello to your quick goodbye.
20 something, quarter-life crisis, loss of love, name it, nothing's weird.
