Words escape me as I try to write down what I feel. I have to write. Or do I? When did it become an obligation? I love words, yet they fail me each time I try to form something out of them.
Thoughts run through my head. Most of them are aimless. But I know they point to something important. They creep in like a thief in the night, and when I'm about to grab hold of them, they escape.
I have known people, and loved them for every thing they are and aren't. And now that I do know them, I try to break free from all feelings of attachment or something I may owe to anyone. I'm testing my limits, trying to see how long I can live without actually living. Can I escape into nothingness forever? Is there a permanent solace? Or do I have to resort to hiding? I've been hiding long enough already, being someone I'm not, lying. Can we fool the world? Or are we fooling only ourselves? Is running away from yourself a good option? What happens when we lie down with ourselves? When it's just us with ourselves? Can we escape then? Who to lie to?
How do I clearly remember who I once was?
I don't.
