Nowadays I am mostly just tired.
Trying to be happy does that to me.
And pseudo-intellectual conversations.
Or any other kind, for that matter.
Conversations I mean.
Including my own thoughts.
I would rather sit and observe.
In a crowded room.
The snippets of conversations vying for attention.
Some more desperate than others.
Trying to hide in nooks and corners. Just when you are about to make sense out of them.
Crescendos. Rising and falling.
Shamelessly pimping themselves.
Aah. This is nice. This hide and seek.
Moving across a room with the eyes following the thoughts.
(Or is it the other way around?)
A frown here and there.
Trying to catch up.
With the cool breeze and the few drops of rain sliding over the glass windows.
Or the smoke clawing at the ceiling, in desperation. Trying to get away.
Sometimes it is beautiful.
It makes me smile to myself.
And just smiling to myself is enough for now.