Nov 2018
echoes. echoes of laughter i can't seem to hear anymore. i look to my right and i feel the wind brushing away my present, taking me 8 years back. this same place. this same floor. the walls. the flowers. but the people aren't there anymore. the people with dreams growing and dying within them, thoughts buried deep inside, feelings they had to suppress before leaving. but have they left? are they really gone? i dont know them. and i probably never will. but i think i do. i think i can see them. i think i can hear them saying silly things just like us, laughing so hard it made them cry. im sure they left with heavy hearts and memories more than they could carry. they must be somewhere right now –living. some might be six feet underneath. longing to spend one more day just like they did before. i cant help but see them. i cant help but hear their voices. its like we are fragments of something which isn't real. as if we are merely thoughts and memories —which makes us being. its surreal, isn't it? we leave. we die. but do we really?
