I don't own the Teen Titans.

And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
~William Shakespeare

Not Myself

I'm standing here.
Alone in my room.
Naked.
In darkness.
In ambient warmth.

It's late, and I know I'm tired, yet I don't feel like crawling in bed.
Rather, I stand.
Still.
Erect.
Running my hands along my body in slow, flowing movements.
I stare out the window.
The black of the ocean and the dark grey of the sky greet my eyes.

Taking slow, deliberate steps, I inch toward the window.
It's open, and the soft breeze floods in.
A coolness runs over my body as it enters my room.
Yet it doesn't make it far before falling to the floor and my feet.
I take a deep breath as I bring my face close to the screen, and close my eyes.
I inhale.
I smell.
I feel.
That all too calming scent of a coming rain, mixed with earth and salty air.
My droopy eyes suddenly feel lifted and light.
They open.

I continue to run my hands along my body, feeling the warmth travel with them.
The radiant heat of my arms wards the cool air away from blowing against my skin.
My mind drifts to the need to sleep, and I avert my attention to my room.
I step back.
The warmth of my room quickly engulfs my body, dissipating the coolness left from the draft.
My eyes feel heavy again.
My mind; wandering.
I step back towards the window, and press my lips against the screen.

I inhale yet again, and again I awaken from the heavy warmth of slumber.
This time, I let my violet eyes bore deep into the distant sea.
Straining to see the full detail in the lowest of light on this dark summer's night.

I dare not bother covering my bare form as I continue to feel the cool air wrap its way around my radiant warmth.
No one is watching...
No one is awake.
There is silence.
Pure, deep silence of all that is man.
Nothing but nature bombards my eardrums.
Soft, subtle sounds most would never take heed of are now loud and clear.
The insects are buzzing, the waves are crashing, and the few leaves on this island are rustling in the light breeze.
I am alone, yet surrounded by living.
What once is a contrasting palette of colors is now a barren landscape of blacks.
Just light and shadow.
Simple forms.
Playing in the moonlight.

I inhale once more, wondering why this is all so soothing.
The picture is a low contrast, dark monochrome with a perpetual soundtrack.
The air smells like air.
And although my warm hands are in constant motion, I should be cold.
Yet despite the simplicity, it is all too comforting, and my mind wants to wander.

I should be sleeping.
Dreaming with my eyes closed.
Tucked safely beneath warm blankets.

Instead I'm standing at my window.
Dreaming as I stare into the distance.
Awake.
Cold.
Fragile.

Lonely.

.

Human.

~VVoD