This ain't a love story. There's no boy, no girl, no impossible love, no passion, no happy ending, nothing. Just me. Just another voice trying to be silence. Another echo between the mountains of desolation. Another human breathing, trying to stay alive, trying to survive. Another face with a fake smile who avoids being asked, cause we all know that the more they ask, the more they know. And let them know is equal to give them the chance to harm us. Then why humans do that? Why trust? Why tell our secrets, our inner us? Do we have any guarantee? Do we? Do we know they are gonna keep all the secrets? Are they going to help us? Are they going to stay? Forever? Why?
YOU ARE READING
The truth's shadow
Non-FictionImagination is the only weapon in the war against reality.
