Let’s come clean.
We’ve been walking long thin lines for a long time.
This slippery slope doesn’t unite us since the last time.
Welcome to my dark side. I’ve been here for a while.
This side, my side, is not a more powerful side. I’m vulnerable to attacks and I’ve wanting to achieve the freedom of not always not wanting peace of mind.
You keep saying to yourself that your side is the bright side. You adhere to ideals you haven’t questioned. You follow a strict set of rules. I still can’t tell what your fuel is. You have an agenda for your emotions. You say you want peace. But you’re at war with yourself and you are our worst enemy.
Our sides cannot exist without the other.
You are not on my side. But I am at your side.
Both of us want peace, but we don’t share the same reasons.
I’ve been questioning our sides. I’ve compared the expected version to the real picture.
Comparing and contrasting never led me somewhere. I’m immersed and merged with both sides and, no, no, somehow I could never draw my lines back to you.
Somehow, I can’t manage to tolerate the idea that daily, I don’t shine. Nightly, I don’t shimmer.
Our years are living in portraits that are not hanging on the walls.
Why am I feeling like, not always, time heals all and maybe not always, all we have is time?
Why do I feel like I should return to home I feel I don’t belong?
I can’t bear being bare feet. I’m vulnerable, and I know that’s what you wanted.
I’m naked. I’m without layers. I never opposed it. You never had to peeled me away and I never said it out loud.
I’m here. I’ve always been here with my chin up and my head down.
There are many mirrors in the room. I see me in all of them like a distant light of a deep tunnel.
You see yourself in all of my mirrors and you still can’t see me.
How come I can’t dare to see me eye to eye?
I light a match and burn all of my enemy fields.
I’m not punching myself against my thoughts. I’ve put the gloves down.
You are now bursting all of my battles and you are on the enemy defenses.
I was often on the trenches of the war, but never on the battlefield.
I’m now a sentinel on the front line.
How come, I’ve put the gloves down but you want to put up a fight?
I’m here. Screaming from the dark side, wanting to draw lines for you to come to my side.
Not sure if I should just shake hands with the time, stay in my side, leave your mirrors behind and dare to feel bubbles a thousand times.
(I share dialogues with myself with a lot of parentheses and suspension points)