I may be the monster chasing you in your sleep, now, or all the sea shells that you collected as a kid and eventually lost. I may be just another blurred face in your dreams, or, the first touch of sunlight knocking at your windowpane. Or maybe, I'm just a dusty album thrown carelessly up in your attic- not useless enough to be dismissed, but useless enough for you to no longer know what to do with me. (Or I'm just a jammed door whose key you still keep with you in your pocket, your footsteps halt in front of me once in a while, but the moment passes and so do you)



Or, maybe 10 years from now, in your mind and heart, I no longer register at all.


You and I, we are the children of the same paradox. A fragile thread hung above a horizon-less sea. Could we get what we wanted while being who we are? Do I not belong as much to the thing i left behind as I do to the future that I'm seeking? How to acknowledge your hurt without having to apologize for who I am? Can I ever find home if my heart is always curious about what's beyond? How could it have been love if I had to keep breaking pieces of myself to make some accommodations for you? Why, after all this time, it still feels like it was? Could you really find love in the arms where you lost yourself?

And this is what you're to me. 5 years from then, you're still the headache I get at 2 am and the bloodshot eyes. The thought processes running in circle. You're the human embodiment of my life-i could create something with you, something out of you but I let the idea of it consume me. And sitting underneath the ocean, before oblivion hits me, I imagine asking to your fractured reflection- have you ever wanted to be the universe - something so grand- that you settled down in this abyss- and became nothing.