I pretend they don’t exist.
Wait, that’s not it exactly.
I know they exist. They exist more than I do.
This is the problem.
I’ll be on the bus, staring at somebody and I start to think their thoughts, look into their faces and hear their inner voices.
I become them.
All of them.
Their voices crowd my head.
My own voice gets lost in the crowd.
I can’t tell if I am thinking, or they are.
It’s a jumble.
So I never look at them, wear sunglasses and headphones with the music turned up loud as it can go.