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  • I have an awful habit of roaming the city when my mind grows restless. Not only must I endure the trip in my head, searching and searching for the answers to stray questions and stories behind memories, thinking over every word of every conversation each day to such an extent that I convince myself that there must be more meaning behind a question than what I'm willing to admit, and there is, but I walk for blocks and for miles and bounce between coffeehouses and campus buildings so much that I'm a regular in nearly all of them. I know that there is more to what I am told and I can see it in the corners of the thoughts that waft out of your mind and into mine. Thoughts are written in a foreign language unique to everyone. Words are laced with such a thick accent that I question if I understood the meaning after translating. There is no dictionary for the human heart, just guesses proven right or wrong with the color of cheeks, a litmus test harder than any I've ever studied for.

    There are shadows in the mind and I have seen them. I have seen them in the mirror and I have seen them in the faces of strangers, faces darkened from the absence of a sunny disposition, or perhaps from too much, tossing you into a night that you didn't know was coming. No, not a shadow, but a thought blocking your eyes and stopping the light from going out, keeping it in for yourself to bask in. Have you learned anything?

    I know that you are searching for something and I do not think that you know what it is.
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