Continuation of self hunt 

Nothing to look forward to, But there’s too much to look back on. 
There are times when he feels lost, 

Times when he wants to be found. 
Sits in the dark, 

Hoping that the light will touch his face. 
The light that never turned back, 

In that darkness he saw more. 
More of what he lost.

In the silence of words. 

In the absence of his world. 
As his skin turns pale, 

He starts to remember those nights, 

Moments he thought were the end.
When his own shadows refused to follow, 

When his own thoughts ruled him. 

He turned to find them,

There was nothing to look back on. 
He takes a turn again, 

A different view appears, 

Nothing like before, 

Stranger than ever. 
Closes his eyes, 

Hoping to see the same old world, 

Same old people. 
Opens his eyes, 

No one to be known, 

Nothing to be found. 
Wondering in that silence, 

Mind still playing with a million thoughts, 

Bodies are just an illusion of desires. 
In that darkness, 

In that bit,

His world flipped a side, 

Yet the self hunt continues

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I dream again 

Sometimes I have dreams, Unconsciousness forced to beg,

Dreams of being on my knees. 
The rage trapped in my veins, 

The helpless structure of my bones, 

I kneel. 
Accepting the right as wrong, 

A storm in my heart, 

Suppressing what was left of hers. 
I dream of being in pain,

Felt like never before,

Caught as a slave of my thoughts, 

Destroying the remains of me. 
I dream and I dream 

Until I’ve tested all of me. 
A tremor that frightens, 

The never drying sweat, 

The dryness, 

Eyes wide open, 
As I walk to the mirror, 

I see nothing but myself, 

Raised questions but also answers.
The dreams that conquer,

The awareness of existence. 

The balance. 
Yet we all dream of fears. 

The conversation (pt 1) 

There comes a time in our life, when we find ourselves the most confused. 

Too less to move and too many places to go.

I found him when he was down on his knees, scared to his own reflection. My first conclusion of him was confusion. But there was something about him that denied all of this. 

Even on his knees I saw him struggling to get up. You can call it my optimism or my perception about people. I stood there for a while and stared at him.

He just kept looking down, his hand holding the other one so tight as if something was pulling him and he had to hold onto it to stay. For a minute I thought, the lonely soul didn’t have someone to hold so he kept it to himself. 

Out of cusiousity of my confusion, I offered my hand. He wasn’t bothered, didn’t even look up. Ofcourse he couldn’t see me. I don’t have a real existence. Just a voice in someone’s head. I figured, maybe I should try to talk to him and make a conversation first and then maybe I’ll walk him through this struggle and get him back to his feet. 

I whispered in his ear, do you want to get up little one? 

He finally looked up, gazed to his left and right and saw nothing and continued looking down. I might have seen a droplet of water falling from his eye to the floor. What a waste it was. 

I whispered again, “it’s okay you’re just talking to you.”

This time he didn’t look up, he just replied in a very low and subtle tone, “if i was talking to myself I would know.”

That poor kid didn’t even know how many others like me existed in that little brain of his, each with a different point of view and a different perception of things. All waiting for a moment when they can come out. 

I didn’t owe him any explanations to tell him what and where and how. So I ignored what he said and continued with my choice of words, 

“Me and you are very similar, the only difference is you’re the creator and I’m the creation” 

I don’t see the similarity there. Besides why would I create a monster to haunt myself at my weakest. Wouldn’t I be looking for something more firm? He replied. 

She is..

She is a year ago. She is the darkness from light. 

The first decision and the last regret.

She is a world that laid beside you,

Warm and familiar, stretching to the horizon. 

Never have you managed to witness such love, Never have you loved someone like you loved her. 

She is your first kiss, 

Your first touch, 

Your true colors in grey. 

A storm that surrounds you with her memories. 

She is your weakness in strength, 

Your first panic attack and your shoulder to look up to. 

You love her. You do. You do. 

In those anxious nights and calm mornings she is the first foot to leave the bed. 

She is the very battle you fought with yourself, 

She is the winning when you lose. 

Nights of tiredness and sadness. 

She is the weight attached to your chest. 

Overruled on your mind. 

She is what she is. 

Yet the best moment is her. 

You’ll always say it’s her.