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I don’t know where you come from, but when I look in the mirror, it’s not myself anymore. I don’t remember looking sad, but the happiest memory I have is, not being alive. Perhaps there was a time I saw my reflection as the burning fire of a shooting star, but right now, I am not even the small piece of dust that travels through the Earth’s atmosphere. I wish to see inside myself, that’s the impossible. I think there is still a spark of fire burning inside me somewhere, but it won’t burn outside the invisible bars I have laid around myself. Maybe one day, I could fuel the fire to burn brighter, I have got a long way to go, but I am ready to be the burning fire of a shooting star again.
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Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
Prisoner of the Self
I don’t know where you come from, but when I look in the mirror, it’s not myself anymore. I don’t remember looking sad, but the happiest memory I have is, not being alive. Perhaps there was a time I saw my reflection as the burning fire of a shooting star, but right now, I am not even the small piece of dust that travels through the Earth’s atmosphere. I wish to see inside myself, that’s the impossible. I think there is still a spark of fire burning inside me somewhere, but it won’t burn outside the invisible bars I have laid around myself. Maybe one day, I could fuel the fire to burn brighter, I have got a long way to go, but I am ready to be the burning fire of a shooting star again.
Written by
20/F/Maldives
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
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