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Rated: E · Prose · Emotional · #1284905
Me with my thoughts, i let my fingers channel whatever words i couldn't say
Being alone makes you ask yourself all sorts of questions, as if you are left to face whatever wanders through your head and heart, left like a leaf in the wind, like in a big room with foggy walls, where you try to figure out the hows and the whys. Am i too motherly, have i always been, am i too mean, is it all my fault, am i scary, closed, unfriendly, a loner, a skeptic, agressive, reserved, too friendly, too easy, too hard, too fat, too old, too nice, too slow, too emotional, too dry, too distant, too close.... each one like a firefly, a fire cracker, a fire ball, each burns in its place, and you see your soul, under the attack of the light in that foggy prison, turning, burning as if by a thousand cigarettes, and the stench of the burning flesh smells of clouds, of uncried tears, and you feel yourself shrinking into an unercognized entity that is not an entity anymore, but more of a crumbling world, and suddenly, as you say those words, you can almost hear it, that rumbling of falling walls. the crackle of rocks, stones fills your ears and you sense it as silent as it is, the vague breakdown of another you, of the you that doesn't know how to exist right, the you that you cherish and hold on to. makes you want to hold yourself tight, rock bath and forth, caressing her hair, shhhh, its ok, its ok my beloved, let it go, let it fall, let it be. you will grow again, the treasure that you are, all the pushing you keep causing yourself to be, to do, you will try harder to make it positive, you promise...

one single fat tear falls from your left eye, and you hurry to wipe it, someone might see. Meanwhile, your inner you keeps rocking inside you, longing for that hold and that hand to caress her hair...
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