Empirical Functionalist: Century Late

Observation

Chills.

The wind wisps past the bedroom fly screen, clawing at the grid and forcing itself to enter the room. It's cool, yet I don't want to close the sliding window; I'd rather see with the glow of the moonlight; I want to admire the cobalt of the vast sky ahead, tonight without celestial company.

The winter. A prime for isolation and alone, time dragging against my feet. Everything stops, everything stays still, everything is on its own.

I will never be able to understand the fear of solitude. Why do many people groan at the thought of departure from peers? Why do these people think highly of existing in a crowd occupied by image and spite?

I carefully massage both temporals, scrolling through MySpace always gives me a headache. 

I'm not the kind of person to post what I do online, so I stick to looking at other people's profiles. Sometimes I look at those of my classmates, occasionally judging them for their group 'selfies' or random posts on the wonders of their day. I think that the concept of documenting every single aspect of life is ridiculous; I find no consideration nor interest in what others do during their spare time. 

Society is disintegrating, human beings fooled into believing that they are stars; believing that their lives are on show. People like this will never escape the cave.

I check the time on the computer. 11:41 pm, July 27th 2008.

It's almost midnight so it would be best to get some rest. Once I shut the computer down I find myself staring into the ebony screen. 

A girl with a home cut side part, dyed burgundy from the cheap supermarket box dye. To complete this, a mundane name; Claire. I blend in with the crowd, but I'm not supposed to.

With a sigh, I throw on my worn taupe jumper and pull the heavy duvet away from the bed. I need sleep, unlike others.