There is a rhythm to seeking comfort in the dark, to casting ones line among the endless drifting tides of the internet in hopes that you'll get a bite. Open room, enter captcha, check... check... check... new room... enter captcha... check... check... check...
wash, rinse, repeat...
Some faces are new, some wandering strangers, all of them lonely and without purpose. Even the ones that want nothing more than that paltry squirt at the end of a cam session are just looking to connect. Eye to Eye for a moment, even if obscured by lust and anonymity.
The bots wander the rooms, leaving and coming at programmed intervals, almost like ghosts... the digital souls of those who can never leave, never find that company they seek.
At four am most of America is asleep, if your lucky you'll catch someone from the west coast staying up out of desperation, but even that is rare. Whats left to choose from is the arabs and the asians: the phillipinos, pakastanis, indians, iraqis... all just looking for a moments trust, to get lost in the ether and find that hand looking to pull you up.
At four am there are no saviors, no devils, we're all damned if only by self-imposed guilt. The desperation that comes when all others slumber. The rooms are hollowed out, hardly anyone speaks openly, everyone just waits for that DING that says someone noticed them, that someone wants them.
Asl? 26 m usa, you? M too, bye... onward and downward and under it all they just want a hand to reach down and pull them up... but it never comes, trust me I've been doing this for over ten years....
it...
never...
comes...
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