I watch through my invisible cotton layer, a woman dragging her two small children across the street on a red light. I watch as she even stops right there, in the middle of the street, to admonish the kids, trams and buses halting for them.

Click-click.

Sometimes I imagine I can feel heavy tugging on a switch in my head, the click-click-click of someone trying to turn on the lights before accepting the lamp isn't plugged in; I imagine there is this insanity switch, and mine is disconnected.

I view it that way because, fuck knows, I wish I could give up the disciplinary voice in my head. I wish I frothed at the mouth; I wish I shouted at people; I wish, at times like these, in heavy afternoon traffic, that stupid women and their children caused me to collapse and scream and faint and make a goddamn scene; I wish I threw heavy objects at people, I wish I tried to punch them, I wish I really thought I could fly, at times like these, when my feet are too numb to feel the ground.

I watch the christmas decorations.

I watch the inflateable igloo at the square.

Click-click-click.

I have unusual learning capability and formidable abilities in logical thinking.

Click-click-click.