I have many thoughts, so many thoughts that it drags me out of my mind. It takes me to places, causes me to wander to the street, in the middle of the road where the cars pass by without a care to where my mind has gone to lay. At the time, I was restless though still I remain completely unmoving from where I was physically am. Everything was grabbing my attention though in truth, it wasn’t really.
“You seem deep in thought,” my girlfriend commented as I become removed immediately from the road, from the park, from elsewhere and everywhere. Where was I before being sent straight back to where I physically really am? An outdoor table of a café not far from where I had been living.
“Yeah,” I said inaudibly, nodding dismissively as well but not at her but at the things that took my mind to where they are. I was watching the things around me move, as they go towards wherever they wished to go. To the cars and the bystanders, the pedestrians and the laymen, I was just among. Simply among the many people who spend their early nights thinking, smoking and working in an outdoor café near wherever they live. There was nothing to relate, and there was truly no single thought to be proud of. I was just myself, watching the world go through the motions, anonymous, watchful and inattentive, and – how could I explain myself?
When I see a car pass by, I don’t look at the model of the car. I don’t look for the person driving it. I don’t even notice the color it has on or the direction that it goes. I just know that it’s there and it’s moving to perhaps somewhere I wouldn’t have a care to know. I see people but I can’t quite make their features. They walk the same as I do, towards the place they feel the need to be, and I watch them but I don’t really watch. I’m looking around not also because I don’t understand and not because I should.
Not that I have to understand because I know there are so many things that I don’t. I perhaps was deep in thought but frankly when someone would ask me the questions, “What’s on your mind?” at the times I place my in the middle of the street, I can’t quite answer. I’m just watching, knowing only that the city has made itself a mind of its own and that I am far too detached to it, even as it moves right in front of my eyes. I am in it, but then, not so much. I smoke my cigarette and I look to the clouds. I look at the streets, I look at my girlfriend, and a question presents itself to me. What is there to know that I need to? What is there to think that I should? These are questions I never quite have the answers for anyway, and so I just nod dismissively and simply look.
So why do I do it then? The looking around without a thought or any some such thing. I don’t know. I just know that there are things that I have to let happen. My mind wanders to buildings, to shops, to places and questions I don’t think I’ll ever come to understand.