You're standing on a thin line between reality and oblivion. Could be the side of a highway, could be the terrace railing of a highrise apartment. It all looks the same with blurred vision, so it doesn't really matter. What does matter, is that there's something watching you. You feel the unease of it, something settling upon your shoulders, tense and heavy, eyes boring into the back of your skull. It's waiting for something, you can't quite figure out what. Maybe for you to do something honest, or stupid, or suicidal. It occurs to you that maybe you're better off not knowing.
Something nearby comes to life, a voice filters through. It startles you out of the sensation, draws your attention away from the way your astigmatism blurs and distorts light. The voice has grown familiar by now, though you never pay much attention to it. Maybe that makes the whole point of this redundant, but you've always had a complex about obscure things. The small independent radio show that occupied an 8pm timeslot every Friday night had managed to capture your interest. And there was a small amount of comfort to be taken in the idea that you aren't the only one who had nothing better to be doing. Finally the music kicks in, something in your muscles slacken, tension ebbs away. The sinister feeling, that sharp nail dragging up your spine abates. You light the joint you've been saving for the occasion and finally, finally, you can breathe again.