Staying very still in the darkness, I become less and less convinced of the fact that I exist. I’ve often asked for nothing but the truth, on this dark sea of time reality becomes clear - it's lonely and far from solitude. Wishing it was different, slowly coming to terms with the fact that you can hide memories and briefly mask your existence, but that you can't erase history.
People say that only they themselves can understand the pain they are feeling. Guiltdriven, we hide that pain. If, before our eyes we see someone who is truly suffering, we do sometimes feel his suffering and pain as our own.
