Walking on the moon

It is tiring to carry so many people and so many memories in my heart and probably more so in my mind. Feels like I carry eight people, dead weight, fully clothed, clothes soaked in water. One day I am going to walk out of a mundane place and just leave them there to die and to never feed them again.
I will seem much lighter in my step and the sun will shine brighter on me than anyone else. People will notice and I will feel accomplished in a much deeper way than I have ever known.

The Little Room

The little room is probably 15 feet by 15 feet. The floor is made of cheap thin and fake looking wood. I don't know how real wood could look fake but it does. The walls are a weird nursing home blue, like an institutionalized government building. The kind that you expect to find in the document and map rooms in the Kremlin. Instead of the blaring red and orange killing rooms and decision corridors that I imagine they have there. Lots of rooms in the Kremlin for many different things.
Getting back to the little room with fake wood and blue walls. Right now the room is cluttered. A big desk (for such a little room) crowds the north wall. A slick little brown leather couch sits very comfortable under the window on the south wall. A fake wooden dresser is tucked away in the corner. A small bookcase, a few bikes, a ditry clothes hamper and some various toiletries make up the rest of the little room. Just enough stuff that the room maintains its small size and not so much stuff that the little room is swallowed up completely.
Surprisingly, the closet of the little room is actually kind of big. A normal sized person can go in there and look and sort and shuffle clothes or shoes or boxes of old pictures, quite comfortably. In fact this somewhat large closet is the room's selling point. A real estate agent showing the house would be sure to note the size of the room in a fake upbeat tone that most real estate agents seem to acquire after the rush of selling houses for small profits wears off. The couple will nod their head and later when over dinner they discuss the little room the wife will say "remember the closet is large and we could fit so many things in there" and the husband will say yes and continue to eat because the only thing he wants to stuff in there is her.
On the east wall of the little room is a medium sized window. From the window can be view the back house. This is a highlight for all those voyeuristic people in our society who like to watch others as if they are watching the nature channel. From here with the right viewpoint and a certain curtain not closed completely a perverted set of eyes can see into a bedroom. The bedroom of a portly middle aged black woman. As long as private areas are exposed when no one else is watching they can get a small thrill in their otherwise boring and near murderous life. We all know how many serial killers develop the guilty please habit of a peeping tom long before they go to mid town to pick up hookers and dump their bodies in all sorts of hiding places in the night.
Back to the little room. There is one other window the one above the couch that I mentioned earlier. This window looks out to a wooden privacy fence. Also cheap looking and also wood but covered in some kind of gross lower income red paint as if to pass it off as respectable when we all know it just lacks the upper class look of real redwood. I guess lame lumber enthusiasts would appreciate this view but not many other people probably would.
The usual technologies of the modern age lay lazily in this little room. Plugged in and ready to be used sucking the life out of the wall for all that mystical and phantom power. Vampiric PDAs and iMacs. Sidenote: do not discuss electronics and robots with people who smoke lots of dope. You will always get an earful about aliens sometime during the conversation whether you want to or not. Somehow with dopeheads it always comes back to, we should smoke and did you know the government is covering up one thing or another.