I wonder if there's anyone in this city that hates living here. 'Cause I hate living here and I thought that no thought can be unique because everyone thinks the same thoughts at one point or another. People. There are too many people. I wake up and there are two people living under the same roof, and I go to school and there are people, and people sit so close to me on the way to work, and at work-afterwork-I just want to be a lon e. Toomanypeople. And San Francisco will have their Indian Summer and I will have the space between four walls and by the time the walls sink the sun will have set. And the Sunset plays with fog even though if I listen hard I can hear the crashing waves-see them from the tops of the hills over off 32nd, too. And the people are good, yeah, they're good people alright. But there is a town not too far away where if you pick a late time-say, 3am-you and your car will be the only thing moving in that damn town. And I like it. No, no, no. I say it's not Fresno-it doesn't comfort me- I've been shaken once or twice or thrice before. But when I found out I had an opportunity I wasn't sure just what to do. And Mom always says when you're not sure on what to do you just stay put like good and Things will fall into their right place. But I saw Pandora and I took her hand and now I'm just trying to smooth over the things that are rocky. Time, give it time, time. I think I have time, I don't know. But I try and give it time. But it's not the time, but it's all these people. Still, too many people.

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