“Maybe one day, I’ll find my way
back to life. Back to you.”
Sometimes it feels like we’re worlds apart. In many ways, that’s true. Your world is full of color. Full of life, laughter, and love. But mine is everything else. There’s no such thing as technicolored kaleidoscopes. There’s no blue skies or green grass. Only black, white, and gray. It’s a desolate place. A place full of desperation and longing. A place where I’m stuck on the sidelines, watching life pass me by. Sitting on that bench as everything spirals out of my control. I constantly question what’s real? What’s left? What would happen if I was gone? Would anyone even notice?
In this world — my world — I’m powerless. Silent. Broken. And that suits me. I was built for this kind of life. He made me this way. I’m separated by invisible walls, fortified by what-ifs…
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