It was a small town, the type of place where everyone knew everyone.

No secrets could be kept,

No affairs could be hidden and,

No privacy was respected.

Everyone knew everyone

Everyone could hear the church bells ring and the birds by creek chirp their morning song.

“What a lovely tune” everyone says.

But not me.

I prefer the loud sound of cars honking in the bustling city streets.

I enjoy having my background noise being sirens and the occasional sound of an engine revving.

I’m infatuated with watching large oceans of people hurdling in a wave like fashion to their place of work.

Oh, how they walk with passion.

I study them in hopes to be more like them.

Perhaps become them.

Sometimes when I watch I see a vaugly familiar face in the crowd looking up at me.

Someone who I can only see in a reflection.

But then I am awakened by the same church bells and bird songs that everyone else in this small town awakens to,

Being forced to remember that I’m not that girl looking up at me from the big crowd.

And I might never be.