What if I were to, hypothetically ofcourse, dissapear without a trace?
I already know the answer to it but there's no harm in asking, right?
My mother will pull out her hair, digging her nails in her own skin and sob, collapsed on the floor, her self heavy with greif and guilt of losing her baby.
My father on the other hand, I'm not so sure. Maybe he'll be angry? Blame my mother? Or keep to himself forever... (He's a nice and strong man but he still can't handle stuff like this well. Never had.)
I've never given it much. Sure I was close to him and all but we never talked about emotional things.
I guess we'll never know because someone is too 'complex' to do so.
Why did I choose the word complex, you ask?
Let me tell you this—
I'm a coward, but also a visionary behind these iron bars I imagine myself behind. Born to lead but too scared to do so, trapped forever to serve. A very intense people pleaser at time, others, a rebel.
I feel everything so vividly that sometimes I feel nothing. I've accepted everything that comes my way but I'm still deep enough in denial to not realise that I've had many chances to break free, to live, to love, to laugh...again....
I'm allowed to do many things but I'm too paranoid to do them...
If this is not complex, then what is it?
Idiocy...This is pure idiocy.
***
To be continued:
YOU ARE READING
Streetlights
PoetryEverytime I take a step forward, the pain seems to flicker in my eyes like an old streetlight who's seen it all. I will bring ruin to my own self if left with these thoughts alone for too long. They have started eat me from the inside and I cannot...
