I'm fading, quietly fading. I barely remember my true self. Was it the one with blonde or brown hair? The one who talked with everyone about everything, or the one who avoids all contact? Who am I? This one question devours me day and night. Always there, even if it isn't present in my mind. My emotions constantly change, I smile, then nothing. The answer is nowhere, am I both? All? Neither? However, does it matter?
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A Collection Of Short Stories By Maurice
Kısa HikayeI like metaphors because then people have to figure it out, and then it's work, so people hate it and I hate people. So this is a metaphor. but I won't tell you what, comment if you think you do.
