Tales of Fake

We die. We live. But what if we are stuck in between? I close my eyes and I know I breathe, I know I feel, but I feel the edge coming closer and closer each time my heart beats. I long for that word, that phrase, that look that used to pull me back to life. Or better said, I long longing for that. I pushed it away, but it's fine. I no longer suffer for him. I no longer cry for us. I no longer grieve, or secretly die...but I no longer wish to feel -not that at least-.

I don't want love, and part of me even doubts about lust. I know how my heart works. One is a path to the other one and I'm not ready for that. Why? Trust me, I ask myself that question all the time. From the moment I wake up to the moment I give up and lie down, a simple question -with a rather complex answer, might I add- takes control over my mind. "Why did you do it?" I don't know. I've gotten to a point where I'm afraid of what I'll say or what I'll do, cause the truth is that I don't know myself the way I should. All I know is that I refuse to know a thing. Both my mind and my heart are like clean slates waiting -not searching- for someone to get creative with them. New words, new reasons, new feelings. A new me.

My past is there and it's nowhere near being erased. I love it and I'll cherish it for ever, but it's called the past for a reason. Right now I don't live according to a set of rules, I simply obey my heart. If that means dealing with uncertainty and loss, I'm ready -or I'm getting there-.