I repeatedly find myself intrigued by simple questions such as, why is it happening? How it is happening? One has to question, if life is short, how far can one's past be from one's present? More importantly, how close is one's future to one's past? What spec of light in the day is true to one's self, what words of someone you love are fake? All questions that everyone asks... and seems so simple. I search for one word to fill in the answer. I attempt to simplify the answer with one word, no feelings, only letters. Ask yourself, are these questions only skin deep? Or do they burn further into a new layer? Do they touch the tips of your fingers? Do they make your eyes salty down to the small wrinkles on your lips? Go a little bit further passed your lips, beyond your teeth, and think about your tongue. Does it now feel too big for your mouth, filling up the space that now seems too hot and crowded. I suppose I am getting off track now. But read this question with a mirror to your face. Ask yourself, how was my childhood? Then look in the mirror. True or fake?
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