Torturous

This method of torture, ah, how much greater it becomes when silent, when no words travel and instead, infecting the soundless space. And I, foolish as I am, let it drag on. I say nothing, and nothing was all that mattered. Oh, yes, innocent nor guilty was I to accept this punishment. And yet, I endured. This torture. When will it end?

Strangers

What influence do these strangers that I see have over me? From the billions of unfamiliar faces, which will I grow to love and which will I betray? These strangers that I pass each day, what significance do they hold in my life? And after I know their names, what expectations do I have of them and them of me?

How is it possible, that, from these people I've never met, I can form a bond that is so unbelievably consuming? How can these people make me so blissful or depressed? What was it that attracted me to them in the first place? Was it unconditional love? Or was it simply curiosity? And if I was ignorant? Would I be happier? Sadder?