Who are you?
A simple question, with a complex answer.
Who are you really? Who am I?
A question millions can ask, over and over, but rarely get true answers.
Why?
Simple, they don't know.
I'm just me.
But who are you?
What are you?
You aren't a name, you aren't a favorite book, you aren't an age, you aren't just a human.
And you know what?
You will rarely know.
And if you do, you often forget.
But sometimes, just sometimes;
You remember. And for once, you really respond. So let me rephrase;
What are you?
-=-=-
I woke up, panting hard as I moved the blankets away, the atmosphere feeling warmer; despite knowing the air condition was on full blast. I looked around me, taking in my surrounding. I was awake. In my bed room. Alone.
I didn't need to answer to anyone. I didn't need to do anything. Yet, I spoke.
"I'm..,"
YOU ARE READING
The Things We Are
General FictionThere are things that make us beautiful. Things that make us ugly, Things that make us US The problem is, some of the big thing about us are the things that either hurt the most or heal us slowly
