You stretch your arms to make your point as those three sharp nails scratch the palm of your tightly closed hands.
You gesture that powerful index towards the person in front of you. "It's me again" I said, as I acknowledge your judgement.
I get a little bit confused, maybe it's because of the many times I've hit my head on your walls and mine.
Those walls I break but end up rebuilding higher than the last time, each time.
Sometimes I see us both reach out, but often times I don't see you anymore. I don't see us.
You and your thoughts linger, but everytime you reappear, you just conveniently disappear all over again.
Do you know how frustrating that is?
To watch a bud open only to be teased as it quickly retracts and close?
I have never felt so out of wits in my life. I have come so close to complete acceptance of just letting you go. Of never speaking to you ever again. Of never caring. Of never wondering how you are. But you matter to me for reasons I myself am not so perfectly sure about. I just do.
For someone who thinks a lot and is a skeptic, believe me, that is something new.
I analyze things a lot, find reasons to actions,
but to feel this with me not coming up with any logical thoughts is both refreshing and terrifying.
Am I finally letting go? And for what?
To be questioned and be kept in a shelf where the rest are?
A shelf for your "Might'ves", "If Only's" and "I Knew It's"?
Often, I think your reflection has abandoned you for it seems you see others but not yourself.
Have you tried examining the person looking at you in front of the mirror?
Is it really me or is it you?
I can never be anything that I am not.
And if you have doubts there's a way for answers to be found out.