Too Far To Begin With

It simply happened. Or did it not? The memories in my mind are all blurry and confusing. I feel like bit by bit, I'm eating myself. No, I feel like a match. I feel like the match, litten, gently strokes a bit of paper. I feel I'm the bit of paper. Slowly breaking into pieces, until there's nothing left from me. But none of this cares. Because the day she comes, I'll remember why I'm here. Until then...