Addicted To The View
I never felt more out of place, yet I came here every night.
Those three gloomy flights of winding stairs were a tough climb, but they were always worth the toil. I was greeted by a familiar gush of wind in my face. It was pretty straightforward — the higher you go, the more breathing space you get.
I took a quick look around before I walked towards my usual spot. I was the only one here tonight, or so it appeared. I knew this feeling a little too well — whenever I felt that I was alone, I just went ahead and believed that I really was.
I climbed the parapet and put my legs across it, just like yesterday, and the day before that. I still remember hesitating the first time I climbed it, a hundred feet high and a gentle push away from death itself. It was a reckless move, but just like with any other vice I pursued — the fear of something bad happening never went away, I just got used to it over time.
The building overlooked a dimly lit road which was fairly active, even at this odd hour. It was flanked on both ends by old trees and street lamps. The street lamps varied in intensities creating small dark patches along the road, where one could get lost for a while, only before emerging from the other side. Anyone with my perspective could see — the dark parts of a road belong to it just as much as the well-lit ones.
Soon a group of four came into sight. There was a visible central entity here — She was talking loudly, to the continuous nodding and appreciation of two others. There was a fourth person who seemed disconnected, probably unaware of the context of the conversation itself. He was just walking beside them — together and yet separated . Fitting in is truly an underrated skill, isn’t it?
Almost as soon as the group went out of sight, another person was coming from the other way. He had earplugs on, and was walking alone lost in his own thoughts. Why was he walking alone at this odd hour? Did he not have anyone to walk with him? Or did he choose to walk alone? Was he at a good place in life? I could not decide, all I knew was — when you choose to stand out, you choose to win alone and lose alone, no matter what.
I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself as I sat there above all of this, knowing I really wasn’t above any of this. The dawn was almost here, which meant it was time to go back down. Tomorrow was another day — another day of trying to fit in, or perhaps another day of trying to stand out — doesn’t everyone just want to be above all of this?
Walking down those three flights of now faintly-lit stairs, I always had the same thought — how I’ll be going back up very soon, either because I really am above all of this, or maybe I just like to believe that I am. Either way, at some odd hour I’ll be back up there. After all, I am Addicted To The View.

