Thoughts

Just random stories

The Mall

This isn't my first time at the mall. In fact, I'm here often. I like to sit in the public areas and watch people walk past. Sometimes I buy a cookie. Sometimes I buy a chai latte along with it. It's very relaxing. Watching people walk by, I mean. I always try and see them for who they are, in that brief moment when they're in my field of vision.

What are they wearing? Do they have glasses? What tattoo is that? I wonder why she's so sad. He looks like he's about to knock someone out. That little girl looks as lovely as a 3 day old mini-puppy. That idiot has mustard on his face. These are the thoughts that come into mind when I'm "people-watching." I try and make stories about these people, wondering what brought them here, where they're going, what they did last Tuesday. Like that one time, when the girl with red rimmed glasses, long black hair and crisp lady suit walked by with a black paper shopping bag. It was probably just a new pair of shoes, but to me it was a super futuristic unbelievably awesome mega weapon/gadget from a secret transaction that took place between her and a private arms dealer whose name can't be disclosed for national security reasons. 

            But today I'm not here to watch people. No, coming to the mall was not my idea. It was my mother's. I don't usually like to go somewhere if it wasn't my idea to go there. I don't usually entertain my mother's worries about me being an anti social kid who doesn't like to participate in everyday activities. But I'm not doing what I usually do, so what the hell. She looked worried and about to cry, so I went.

            I don’t think she understands that I see the world through a completely different lens, one that she doesn’t use. That nobody uses. I like to watch things unfold. I like to rely more on my imagination rather than my reasoning to explain things to myself. I like to sit in my room, in complete silence, playing complex scenarios in my mind that involve multi-layered characters that are both imaginary and real.

            I like to do this alone. I can’t concentrate when there are people who are nearby. Or when there is noise. Or when the AC in my room is too loud or when the sunshine makes my room too warm and I have to open the window to let air in which means I can hear barking and talking from outside.

            I wish I was at the bottom of the ocean. It would be completely black down there, submerged on the sea floor where it is so spectacularly and severely silent that it almost hurts. I wonder what my waking mind would show me when everything that I see, hear, touch, smell and taste is all imagined.

            But alas, that is not the case. I’m not some sort of undiscovered sea creature that lives on the sea floor playing out stories in my mind. I’m in the mall, at my mother’s behest, waiting for the daughter of one of her friends. 

I'm on a date.

The End

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