I get out of bed sometimes and i look outside the window.
there's always this rush.
people who read magazines,
people who smoke,
who cross the street,
who drive someone else's cars.
people.nothing less, nothing more
and there's, of course, always someone calling,
asking me something.
just like there is always someone leaving
while i take a shower.
you don't know exactly who you are
since there's so much coming and going,
but it would be weird to stop for a second
and ask where the memories have gone.
was it when i got drunk that night,
or when i bought the glittered dress?
is it that i lost them in every person
i touched?
oh, i hope not. i barely know their names.
so this is it. you wake up one morning
and the only thing you know about yourself
is someone else's name.
