Collective Dissonance

I am in a state of nothingness.

I’d try to describe it, but it truly is a state of nothingness. I don’t know if it’s something of nothing, or just nothing. All I know is that it is nothingness. You’d be pleasantly surprised about how easy it is to make something out of nothing.

I suppose this all stemmed from staring out my window on my knees, just watching. There isn’t much to see, it’s a sixth story window looking out onto a courtyard with a lackadaisical water fountain, a few wooden benches, a few cast iron picnic tables, and quite possibly a non-functional barbeque grill.

The window itself doesn’t open up more than three or four inches. I suppose this is for liability purposes, in case some drunk idiot decides to hang out the window to double his pleasure and his fun. In that event, keep my roommate away from the windows and the double-mint gum.

There is just something about it though. Looking at each window, and wondering about their story. Wondering what they’re doing in there, and why they’re doing what they’re doing. I suppose it’s a bit nosy. I think in all reality, I only want to understand. I want to understand why people do what they do, and why people are what they are, but not in a psychological sort of way. I think modern psychology is great, but there is something about the world that it will never be able to explain, and I just want to know what that is.

There are not many people who leave their windows open. I’d say there are about 75 windows out there, and maybe ten of them allow someone to see in. There is someone watching TV catercorner from me on the third floor. I don’t know if they’ve been watching all night, or if they just got in. Maybe they’re lonely on a Saturday night, and they’re quelling the pain with cheap booze and late night infomercials. I don’t know, and in all reality, I don’t think I want to know. There is a certain mystique about not knowing. Knowing would be like ruining the magic trick, and once you know how it’s done, it’ll never be the same again.

Part of me wants to know.

Part of me doesn’t.

Alternatively, I suppose a bit of looking out the window is an attempt in which to conquer myself. I don’t know why, I know that I am completely safe, and that nothing is going to go wrong, but no matter what I do, there is an overwhelming feeling of impending disaster, and that I’m going to fall to my death. I’ve lived approximately 7,482 days, and I still have an overwhelming condition of acrophobia.

I don’t know what I am going to do next year with a fifth floor balcony. I suppose it’s a new opportunity, a new environment, and a new chance to learn.

I can’t complain with that.