My very own fake plastic tree.

I sat alone, watching the smoke dance it’s way from my cigarette towards the moon. I thought about how tired I was, and how very, very, lonely I felt. And at the same time I wondered how could it be that I felt lonely even tough I felt nothing at all. And I really do mean it when I say nothing at all. Loud memories from a not so distant past threatened to surge, I stood up and scared them away while pacing back and forth on the balcony. I knew I couldn’t stand to poke around inside my head. I focused on the smoke again. Don't think. Thinking destroys people, ignorance is bliss. I peeked trough the courtains of oblivion and shuddered when the ghost of a screaming man’s hand hit me straight across the face. I shut the courtains again. I focused on the smoke. I focused on the smoke. And drifted away towards the moon.