i hate the sounds of the cars.
i hate the way they sound when they slow on the concrete.
i hate the anxiety of being looked in on.
yet,
i sit by the window,
idly awaiting one to pass.
as if i need that fear instilled in me to feel something;
to feel alive.
i hate the way the wind sways when one speeds by.
yet,
i walk outside,
feeling the breeze on my skin.
i hate the sounds of their brakes.
i hate the halting,
the screeching,
the honking.
i hate all of it.
yet,
i sit in the middle
and wait.