I have let myself die for years.
I haven't been able to show my true colors.
I ran errands in the city
I wasn't myself. And I still am not myself.
Circles of disbelief surround me.
What is the point?
"The meaning of life is death." I told myself.
The birds in the sky,
The people on the street,
The false warmth in supermarkets,
The small little kind gestures that people do to each other,
The reflection of the sun in the trees,
These details seem to be meaningless,
But I notice them.
I look at them with stunningness,
As if they were miracles or nightmares.
May that sound sad, but I learnt that I was alone, in my body and in my mind.
A whole universe is hiding in me.
I instantly fell in love with you the first time I saw you. But I don't know if you do too. Maybe it is just me. I might be crazy. Maybe you did too. You made magic tricks, helped me get out of the car in a silly situation and made jokes. And I sure have laughed at every single one of them. You and I share the same avertion for social media. It makes sense that you may have loved me. I haven't seen you for weeks but I swear that I thought about you every day. Your face, your voice and your smile are the perfect embodiments of warmth and comfort.
Where are you now? And where am I too? Do you ask yourself that question?
May I forget you.
