I looked down once to discover there is nothing under my feet, only the darkness I acquired.
The air was so dry and cold, so were my eyes. Without any reason I wanted to explore this empty space inside me, despite the voices telling me nothing good would come out of it. And here I am, hollow and loved, loving and damaged, trying to find comfort in writing in the language that is not even my own, in which I cannot express my feelings accurately, though maybe I am lost in the variety of languages, unable to find my voice. This is the confession of drugs, alcohol and fulfilled love.
This is the after in happily ever after.
This is nothing but a fucking gasp of fresh breath, as if I was drowned for almost twenty years. This is an introduction to something, not sure what yet, maybe to the absurd of life.
