The Motions...

I find myself going through the same motions every day. I wake up. I get ready. I go to school. I go to rehearsal. I go home. I read. I write. I listen. I sleep. I repeat.

I live in a world that is somewhat different. In both good and not so good ways. But, mostly just unfamilar, and uncharted territory that I have yet to explore.
I stay. Huddled in my own little being. Refusing to stand and look with my own two eyes.
Maybe I'm just scared? Me scared? That's scary.

I don't think I talk as much as I used to. In fact, I don't think I laugh or smile or converse as much as I used to either. At least at school I don't.
There is one thing I do a lot more of. At least a lot more than I did before.
I think a lot more.

I process things. I focus. I find myself thinking about certain things for hours at a time. My brain capacity has increased through it's other absences. It's really what gets me through the days. Through the same old motions. I think about words. I think about how people use those words to communicate. I think about people. I observe them every second of the day. I never knew a person could be so observant. People fascinate me. They are all so different. They all have their own motions. The differences in speech or manner. The differences in they way they walk and look. The way they transfer thoughts to words. The way they communicate to one another. The way they feel about one another. Honestly, if you really took the time to watch, you could easily see how someone feels about another person.

Is it weird that I'm saying all of this? Saying that I spend my emptyness watching other people.
It does sound rather odd, but you must not understand my reasoning...
I watch them because they do in fact fascinate me. I watch them because they help me in a way.
They inspire me to look past. They inspire me to think.

I watch and I write.
I observe and I write how I feel after pondering over a certain person for a bit.
I write about the brilliant boy in my theatre class. I write about the girl who though very pretty on the outside, is not much to see on the inside. I write about the way people walk and talk. How they bite their nails and write with their left hands. (which I believe must be a genius trait)
I never knew anything about these people until I stepped down from myself and looked onto others.
More people should do it. I'm sure the world would be rid of a few less selfish and self absorbed people.
Then again... I may very well have been one of those exact people.
Then again... Aren't we all?
We are ourselves, therefore we think about ourselves a lot. Understandable, of course.

I just really feel thankful to these people. They truly get me through the days.
They get me to Friday every week.

I never thought about writing.
But, now I see why people do it.
Some can brilliantly compose words out of dust. Words that capture you and refuse to let you go. Words that leave you in another world.
I see now that a writer can make a world of their own with just a thought in their mind and a flick of their pen.
A world they do not have.
Perhaps a world they long to have.