"Exiled, in my own home."

Day 43

From my balcony, I can see for miles across the city, buildings strewn about all over the place. They stick up like fingers, pointing at God, while the people inside are probably all commiting some sort of sin or another.

I always wonder how other people manage to live their lives. How they go about their day, what they do at night. Once in a while, I'd grab a pair of binoculars, and see what other people are watching on their tele. Seeing what they're eating for dinner. Or what kind of furniture do they prefer.

Because it interests me, as I always think about whether or not I'm living a normal life, of sorts. Of course, the term 'normal' really defies description, but you can always relate.

I wonder if anyone ever thinks about how I manage to live my life, and how odd it must seem that I've managed to survive all these years. I wonder about that myself sometimes.

Though, in reality, I'm starting to believe that I've become a forgotten subject...