I’m not sure if it’s worth it to keep coming to the overpass. I say that yet I’ll do it anyway, until the end of time if I have to. There aren’t any new sights to see with how long I’ve spent here. The same people driving the same cars, driving under the same overpass that connects the same walkways.

What’s the point of coming back if I know what to expect? Maybe it’s just the nostalgia of it all. “How can I stop when all of my best memories are here?” Best might be exaggerating it a bit… or maybe not. It’s not like I do anything anywhere else.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

It’s worth it because I think it is. Final answer.

It doesn’t matter what other people think, it only matters what I think. That’s not a great way to think with others, but I don’t have others to think with. That might be why my thoughts are so chaotic; nobody to be the voice of reason. I should ask somebody to be my voice of reason. Nah, that sounds uncharacteristic of me.

I don’t talk to others.