It was pouring sheets of rain and I was listening to "The Only Living Boy in New York" in the Westshore Mall parking lot.
Lightening was all around me.
And I was feeling alone, smiling, thinking I was the Only Living Boy who has ever really listened to that song.
It was a good day to have the blues.
I'd heard some things said that took me there
I probably shouldn't listen or care.
Listening attempts to add thought to what is being said, and most of what is said is without thought.
Caring hurts, when what is heard malicious or cold, either through mindlessnes, or out of lack of empathy.
Sometimes I feel like the world is trampling flowers while I'm walking around them.
And I wonder, what is the point.