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Rated: 13+ · Prose · Philosophy · #1160906
The Watchers are removed from society; they have a chance to observe without bias.
I watch things.
I see everything as it happens.
I'm in the corner of everyone's eye, watching them forget that they saw me.

I hear things.
I hear everything just as it is said.
People hear me all the time, but I keep listening to the sound of them forgetting I exist.

It's a lonely life, watching. I see other people beyond my window, and I watch them too. I can't hear them, but I watch as they buzz about their lives, finding, fighting, fixing, fondling.

Forgetting.

I wear black; the mark of a Watcher. I see how people change their appearances with varying shapes, and sizes, and colours of clothing. They change their appearances almost as much as they change their personalities.

Mix and match.

Tonight I am going to get drunk on love and then die.
Perhaps tomorrow my children will see something I missed, but that's unlikely.

Humans are all alike to a fly.
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