disynthetic

"You aren't even watching what you're doing, are you a complete moron or is that cigarette intoxicating you?"
"Stuff it. I was thinking about..." About the way that girl looked at me... there was something that led me to believe that it was more than a passing glance. The extra millisecond of prolonged eye contact, and the way she slowed down her movements ever-so slightly, enough that I noticed, but not enough that her friends she was talking to would stop to think anything.
I was also thinking about the last time I cared about anything. The last time I recalled missing someone when it was gone, and the last time I had something that mattered to me. Mind you, all while being fully aware that I DID have things like these. Problem was, and still might be, that knowledge as solid as it was changed none of my reactions or thoughts to pain, hurt, or love. I had built my self a solid castle. I just couldn't find the fucking way out, much less the glowing red "exit"-sign pointing me to it.
"... what the hell you're doing in my room. What brings you inside my apartment, I'll touch on that later, at the hour after I fell asleep an hour ago," I calmly ask.
The intruder in question perks up, suddenly looking sheepish as he pulls my spare key out of his pocket and hands it back to me. "You don't lock your door, remember? So put this on your keychain so you can lock your door."
Lethe bastard.

I ran out of time. More forthcoming.