When the worst introduces you to the best

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My indecision

I thrive when I'm alone.

But it fucking hurts when I'm alone.

And I have to choose...

I have to either say, "Hey pad of paper, I'm gonna take a break. See I have someone now that licks my pussy and pulls me back into the sheets every time I try and give you some attention, forcing me to giggle and push my forehead into his chest when Gerald Butler tells Katherine Heigl, 'Yet again, I just told you I am in love with you and you are standing here giving me a vocabulary lesson.'"

Or, "Hey gorgeous man that wants to buy me expensive meals for a bit of lip action, see I have this notepad that's my very best friend, who's always there for me when I'm crying and yelling and vomiting expletives. It's the only one I tell the whole god damn truth to, and I don't mean to keep secrets from you, but I don't know I have secrets until it's blank stare catches my eye. So you're gonna have to go..."

That's it.

New Yorkers' lives through their apartment windows

And you stop... and you look out the window to the dozens of windows rising before you from the apartment across the street, and you look at those windows closed up with curtains, yours doesn't have curtains because you just moved in and you're all alone so who cares, plus voyeurism is something you've always thought alluring.
But you look out hoping to see someone else looking back, just the shadow but you know they're watching...
And they're alone. And you're alone. And that's what connects you, loneliness that makes you sympathize with a stranger.
And maybe they're smoking, or maybe they're not; and they wish they had a cigarette to inhale; and you wish you had that T-shirt to tear off; and they wish they had the candlelight to mask their flaws; and you wish you had that hair to pull and those dark eyes to fall in love...
And then she walks into the room.
She smiles you're sure of it -- even though it's an imperceptible backlit shape -- and he smiles back, how could he not? And the curtains are pulled across the glass as the lights are turned off as she throws one leg over his waist.
And you swear you see him tip his fingers right before all is lost for the night... Tip his fingers as if acknowledging, 'You might be let down, but the mystery is better than the reality.'