I feel the tears of not being falling inside me.
I feel myself smashing against words and thoughts.
The vowels scratch me. They are so easy to say, but so difficult to caress…
Is it day or night? Is this light? Is it really me?
I turn around and I see myself looking at me.
I stretch my hand so I can get over memories.
I stop and realize that I am just a memory.
I am a forgotten page in a book with lots of pages.
People.
My thoughts hurt. My hidden thoughts, your unsaid thoughts,
buried in the deepness of other thoughts.
My mind embraces them, empties them of all meaning and feeling,
transforms them into black letters on a white wall and then,
into words more black and more empty.
I’m better, right? The words have passed…
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