And once more I find myself alone


And once more I find myself alone. In my loneliness, these myriads of chaotic thoughts are the only interlocutors I find. But, thankfully, they don’t interfere with my monologue, rather they construct it, build it, help develop it.

Once more I find myself missing you, your voice, and your words; to such an extent as if those were my sources of living, as if they were an engine, and I, a mere machine that cannot move without its engine put in motion. But the engine is now lost; it comes and goes as it pleases, thinking of its existence as being needless. However, I am still motionless, waiting for all the doors of hope to be opened up again with your return.

And I miss, and I miss. I cannot be me if my most important part is detached from my own being. I am fragmented, incomplete. So distant you are but yet you won’t accept it, exerting a great deal of strength in making me believe that you cannot breathe without me, portraying a mere surface image. What goes beyond is what really matters. And it is beyond, that the truth lies.

You can breathe. You don’t miss. So I wonder, I wonder, and I keep wondering why you lie not just to me but to yourself. What’s your profit out of this? What’s the prize you’re going to get? But you defy my point of view, posing your own farfetched arguments, using language to your own advantage.

You keep saying “I love you”, the magic set phrase which is supposed to light up someone’s heart, to compensate for broken promises, and to act as an erasure of guilt. It’s getting complicated for me to fully believe in this three-words-phrase. When it becomes evident that actions don’t longer match, or even that they never did actually match with the words uttered, something gets broken deep within from where mistrust and paranoia emerge.

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