Longevity in Silence
Burnt out instances quell my motivations. Sacrifices of the things most dear for an ardorous intoxication.
What is it to be afraid?
Fear to be alone, fear to be with people. Fear of death; fear of life. Where does the fear end? Fear of being judged leads to shame in what you love. Inability to accept even yourself, yet able to others.
Desire.
To want things.
Materialistic.
Categories for everything and everyone. Existence outside of the mold? Thinking outside of the box leads to another box, just with less thoughts.
Independence.
Lonliness.
Loathing those things in myself that leads to being alone.
Unchangeable.
Confidence?
Where?
How?
Turning out the lights and talking to the shadows. They reply, but with my voice, with my thoughts.
But am I talking?
Am I the shadows? Or are they me?
Part of me?
All that I am?
We coexist; cooperate; dissolve into one another and then into nothingness. I still hear you breathing on my neck.
On my shoulder.
On my everything.
My breathing.
Your everything.
Mine.
