I feel like I see people as a collection of patterns–like something to figure out. It's hard for me to hold onto patterns when I can expect what's coming. When there's no depth. I don't know, It just drains me to know that I'll be listening to the same music and following the same routine. I end up removing myself. The wood structured falls and I rebuild. 

 I find myself always chasing for something. Chasing for meaning. I'm always in movement. I wonder if I'll ever feel the kind of relief that just puts everything to a halt. 

One and Two. The birds start chirping. That look in their eyes. Contentment. Love? The look when they admire — the look of a lover. A drowsy trance, a glance away from a dream-like state. As if they’re reading lullabies, songs inscribed along the surface of their soul. Soulmates? One and Two. Rhythm. Melody. Harmony. “Check, one, two.” You look at them. “Testing, one, two, three.” A subtle smile. They look content. The content. The content of a blissful life. A drop of sunshine — fleeting. Then the squawking. One, two, three. Then they look at you. One and Two. “What?” Three: “Nothing.”