The View

It's the same old view it's always been, but tonight it just seems different. As I lean against my dresser, I stare out the window, fifteen stories up, out at the lights of Tempe. My kitten sits on the dresser and I stroke his soft fur as we gaze out the window together. Everyone down there is so small. The little dots of light riddle the landscape like the scintillation of stars as their light enters our atmosphere. The frat houses across the street are as alive and overflowing as they usually are. The tiny people that run across the street, continuing their ever-important, busy lives seem surreal as I stare down at them. The arrows painted in white on the black roads tell people which directions to go, how to get there. The lines they must stay inside, the rules they must obey, all symbolic of life. But why? Who made these rules and what gave him the right? Who says I can't go skipping up the street singing as loud as my lungs will allow without "disturbing the peace" or that I have to pay to see natural sites like the Grand Canyon, when no one actually owns it? Those busy people and their busy lives. Do they find the time to enjoy life or simply push themselves through it, living day by day until they finally realize how close their life is to ending. . .
My roommate interrupts me, concern in her voice as she asks if I'm okay. I smile at her. Yes, I'm okay. . . a hypocrit, but okay. I felt sympathy for those people and their busy lives, and yet it's time to get back to mine. My homework that waits, the studying that must get done, the taxes I still have to file. My life is no different from theres, to be truthful. It's all a matter of perspective.