It is raining outside now. The rain reminds me of a time long past. It reminds me of a comfortable home, with me secure and insulated from the outside tropical tempest. I remember sliding my window a crack to let the air in, and the howl of the gust shudders the window pane. The wind blows from the crack to the other end of the apartment, and I let its chilling touch embrace my face. It feels dry, and wet at the same time. It is cool and comfortable. The house dances in the mellifluous orchestra of the storm. I close my eyes and lie on my bed. Nobody speaks but the wind.
I would have everything; a home; a family; friends; and a future. That is a long time ago.
I can walk freely at night. I walk because I cannot stay at home. I walk because I cannot sleep. Walking helps me relax and think. I walk when the activity of the neighbourhood has died down. A few vehicles patronise the road just in front of my apartment. The street lamps are bright. They shine orange. I can walk freely because my city is safe. The laws are harsh and people obey them. It feels good to feel secure.
I would walk to the end of the street towards the rear of my apartment. There is another apartment where a pretty girl lives. I know her from school. She is a very quiet girl. She exudes subtle charm and her smile is very endearing. She loves her boyfriend very much. She is also very smart.
I would keep on walking. The time is midnight. There is no one about on the streets. But I feel safe. The people in the city are predictable. We care for one another, even when we sometimes do not show it. I would contemplate on the future while walking. I remember that I have to be conscripted soon. I look forward to it with a little bit of uncertainty. It soon turns to apathy. I walk on and soon forget about it.
I feel a little lonely on my walks sometimes. It would be a good feeling to have a good friend beside me, enjoying the quiet and contemplative walk with me. A good friend who understands me; someone I can relate to. I have no friends in school. I have little friends in life. I have many acquaintances. But no one truly understands me. Perhaps it is because I am inadequate in expression. Either I am truly incapable, or simply that I find no pleasure in revealing my soul. They operate in a reciprocal partnership. Life would be more refined, romantic and meaningful if Man is more subtle and unpredictable. Life would then be worth living. It gets lonely, but I am not desperate.
That is a long time ago. I have left my home. I cannot take contemplative walks now.