Memories of False Fronts and the Red Box

Walking down the road, watching the hustle and bustle of the city. Looking up to the darkening sky, and I wonder.

"_______, how does this world look to you?"

I hate it.

A bit confused, and not fully awake yet, seeing people nonchalantly dump their trash out from their car window.

"_______, how does this world look to you?"

I don't like it.

You said it's the truth. I open my eyes and see for myself. Of this peaceful country filled with people who said they know everything. Of people behaving like they are not affected by other countries' tragedies.

Hey, _______? You aren't missing anything. By leaving, you were supposed to be spared from this sight and believed that in the future, everything will change.

This static country is starting to change little by little, but I am still stuck in my own bubble, steadily tumbling forward, unaffected by the flow of time. More and more, people around me are accepting the changes and innovations, but they are still the same no matter how much they do.

Sleeping on the couch, waking up to the smell of cigarette and lit matches. A local radio station making announcement of an electrical cable maintenance.

Therefore on tomorrow afternoon, all the affected areas will experience power outage due to the work being carried out. This will continue until the maintenance is finished.

Same old, same old. Whether you are around or not, it is still the truth. I tried to blind myself from the reality by turning to you, but now that you have left, I have nothing else.

_______, I made a note to myself a long time ago. I still keep it even though all other things related to you have been sealed away in the red box. I never showed it to you, and I will never show it to anyone else.

Opening my eyes after a nap, trying to figure out if I am still dreaming or not, and the clock shows half past three in the afternoon. Outside is still warm, and the sky's pleasant. However, I don't want to go out.

Stop, the red box says, opening me won't solve anything, and drowning yourself in the past won't make you stronger. Lock me up and keep me someplace away from you.

I hate it when you said it's the truth.

I hate it.

But it is still the truth.

And I still wonder how does this world look to you.