oppressed

Ever since watching a video of the rioting in London I've been uneasy. Everything I knew, or thought I did, about people just seems to be wrong--and not just society, not just the recession. Little things. Quiet comments by my friends that make me wonder if there's something unraveling there, and then when we're out for drinks laughing and acting like there isn't anything going wrong.

Then it's "so how are you?" and I say "oh, pretty good." I say "never better." I say "how are you?" Deflect, deny, and then I watch them talk and wonder if they always seemed this nervous, this ill at ease. Maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm projecting. Maybe there's nothing wrong.

Then I'm home and it's quiet and the sun is coming up and I collapse on my bed and listen to the birds and wonder if they always sounded so repetitive and so fake. I read the letter from my brother again and can't help but feel like it sounds sinister, like the last letter he'd ever write. I'm picturing his voice, the same not-quite-ironic tone he always uses, and it sounds wrong.

The next day I'm downtown and it's raining while a peaceful protest turns ugly and I'm caught in the crossfire and throwing a brick through the window of a building I never even knew existed, and later on, when I've run away to a friend's house to lick my wounds, I stare at the empty fireplace, and wonder when the world started burning.