Just because you are yourself.
Just because you chase the truth.
Just because you dig things deep. Yet there isn't nothing different to be seen.
Am I writing about you? Am I writing about myself? Who knows? Who cares, after all?
I see and go deeper. I seek the answers, the changes, yet there are no changes to be done. I see it now and it has been destroyed by the belief that such words could be misinterpretated - fuck them, fuck what they say or think.

You shouldn't fear the thoughts of the others. They haven't been in your life during the times of struggle. They haven't lived the hard times for you. 
Those have been your words, my friend, not too long ago. And you were right. I should be happilly living my life the way I want, the way it pleases me, yet I can not help it, but to think, to wonder what others' thoughts are going to be. It may have been my path, my evolution, but I still feel somehow trapped on what their thoughts might be.

I call the name of countless people. Are they real? Do they live in the physical world? In the same time of existence that I do? Or are they people living inside my inner world?
I see countless landscapes. Are those landscapes from the same existing plan or are they also part of my inner self?

I see days passing by. I fear to be just a tasteful bit of wrong, that'll never ever be anything good or right. I fear that my self-esteem will be a fading shade of the fading shade that I am myself.

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