This entire view is stunning, to say the very least. The reds and greens, flashing periodically, and the cars that followed their cardinal rhythm, passing by. Going by, heading towards their destination.
Snap! A touch of my fingers on cold glass, scraping myself on the sides of the broken shards, a repeated motion, and send. Three hundred people that read my message. Three hundred people that could have done something, but didn’t.
I’m thankful for that.
I tap again. The image that’s glaring back at me isn’t quite right. It doesn’t quite capture the mood of my sight. It’s a little too clear, too obvious. A city of lights is nothing more than a pretty spectacle, an image that’s still and unmoving. In real life, they’re blinking at me gently, slowly, as if they’re afraid to disturb my thoughts.
This white dot on my hand seems to be floating around my palm, dancing in the creases that it had settled into before. It’s restless, the plastic wrapping on it shimmering with every move it makes before it’s closed into the dark chasm and swallowed down. Another one. Repeat.
The dots are now splayed around me. They seem to flow in the moonlight, forming constellations like a mirror to the sky above me if I squint hard enough. I’m bathing in starlight, and it’s a little cold. A little cool, so I can barely feel it on my skin but it’s still there.
The lights aren’t exactly happy with their imposters. They’re mingling, blurred together into a radiant ball of light centric around a point in my peripheral vision, and I had to force myself to keep my gaze level.
If you’re afraid of falling then don’t look down.
I do it anyway.
At once, there’s darkness rushing up to my face, blowing my hood away from my head, drops of water falling down one by one into oblivion. Drip, drip, drip.
They must know my intentions. They must know why I’m here, a silhouette unmasked by my surroundings, a perfect shadow of darkness for the perfect shot. I’m not behind a wall for once, hiding. Hiding from people, hiding from responsibilities, hiding from myself.
It’s so exhilarating. It’s supposed to be exhilarating, but somehow it’s more calming than anything.
They’re giving me a chance to see the alternative, and I’m taking it.
My eyelids are drooping in the face of that bright light that’s shining from the past. I let it.
Dawn H. Lau
Dawn H. Lau is a freshman double majoring in Cognitive Science and Linguistics and minoring in Computer Science, and like everything else in her life, her works are pretty freeform-- it's mostly just a reflection of her current state of mind, and almost a way to sort herself out in the same time. If anything, she just hopes to connect with people around me in a way that normal day to day conversations wouldn't achieve.
