I'm finding where I fit. The lights outside my apartment window are so bright tonight.  They're keeping me awake along with the dull hum of life and living things surrounding me.  The machines that carry us home, that carry onto the next great adventure, that carry us back where we belong at the end of it all.  I imagine what each of those dull green and yellow lights are doing, the shadows passing by the makeshift curtains, trying to differentiate between the rooms with one or with two.  The flickering neon brings my two fingers to my temples and I feel the pulsating rhythmic reminder that nothing dies unless you let it.  My eyes continue to dart to the left no matter how hard I try and concentrate, they cling to each movement with slight interest.  The wind picks up and runs through my body like a current, only to be shaken off and brought back down.  On my couch, alone, typing fervently at a too-bright computer screen in a pitch black room, a cell phone across the room that continually beeps and flashes with messages from people I'll never know, people who will never love me.  The only way I don't drown in this overwhelming sense of scrutiny, isolated from so many things that make me feel whole.  Loneliness creeps in again as I notice the double shadows in each apartment window, the sounds of the upstairs and downstairs, the laughter, the chatter, the tears, the footsteps across busy floors.  And then there's me.  Where do I belong?