Posted at 08:36 PM
What is there to hide? What is there to be kept a secret, to be kept a clandestine affair, to be hidden away from the rest of the world? What is there to hide - or rather, why hide?
On the other hand, what is there to show? What is there to boast of, to be proud of, to be worthy of showing and flaunting? Was there ever anything, really?
I know there's something. I just don't know what it is or if it even still exists. I don't know if what I have in my life now is but a mere memory of how things once were, a mere passing shadow of a past I sometimes wish I still live in. I can't distinguish the fine line between the past and the present, reality and fantasy, and a dream and a nightmare, anymore. Hell, I think that line dissolved itself the past weeks, leaving all these contrasting facets blend together into one detrimental mixture, harmful and painful to the merest touch.
I've been sinking into this hellish quagmire and don't feel a thing. Perhaps indifference and numbness is but the first phase of my doom. Insensitivity and numbness must be better than feeling all kinds of things.
I hate disappointment. I'd take pain over any given time. But then, pain usually follows up my hatest sensation, and it follows it up in triple loads.
I can't even express myself anymore.
