And they can’t understand, what hurts more— Missing the other person, or pretending not to.

Do you love me enough that I am allowed to be damaged? Do you love me enough that I am allowed to be weak in some places?

I didn’t want a story—a beginning. Not anymore. I have long ago stopped walking on a road where my dreams walk around. I change my destination a hundred times if I ever see an old wish of mine standing there in its real form. I don’t know them. I don’t want to. They too must not know me. They too must not recognise me as their owner.

I feel the pain—everywhere.

In that silence, I dream to be.

There is a sad end I used to liveeven before I knewthis is how I was meant to begin.

Do you love me enough that I am allowedto be damaged? Do you love me enough that I am allowed to be weak in some places?