Sinking clock

I sit here upon the airconditioner at 2:30am, smoking out the window. I look out into the heart of melbourne. Just a week ago I could see to the horizon in every direction, now I can't even see one block. One extreme to the next. From a town where everyone knows my name to a city where I will perform to a bunch of strangers I may never see again... I feel lost in my surroundings and yet I used to know them so well, Melbourne was the home I would never truely call home and yet now, being here, I feel so distant and long for the openness of the countryside. I don't want to be famous, I never did, I just want to make people laugh, originally it was because I couldn't laugh myself, now it's something I can share, and hey, it beats therapy. Still I find I don't quite belong anymore, I don't belong in the country, I don't belong in the city, where do I fit in, or am I not meant to fit anywhere.
Thoughts of the show haunt me, I'd just like to get it right, and I am trying, I just can't get it into my thick head. Lost in a sea of second hands that rotate anticlockwise and sink when I touch them. Oh to be young and stupid once more, perhaps I should have become the lawyer my parents wanted me to be, but then again, in a world like that, I'd more than likely top myself.