Today the feeling in the air is of lucidity. I am served my emotions on a platter tonight. A knife is laid down on my side to either cut myself open and venture into the unknown yet important or just let these suicidal thoughts rust into oblivion. A choice between self-knowledge and happiness I am presented. A choice that can decide the course of my existence.

Either I can walk in the ocean and feel my weight rise or I can float, look inside my mind and let the waves rise instead. What stops me from looking internally is utter fear of the ugly soul that occupies me. What stops me from avoiding it is a lost opportunity, the remembrance of the feeling of guilt that if I don’t look I’ll regret it. So I just wait, for the dilemma to solve itself, to let the fate do its work. And for that…

…I feel like a fraud. Meanwhile, to let myself float in the monotony I borrow identities from people that seem to have it all figured. Never realising that they also have borrowed identities instead. They are as clueless as I. Suffering through a similar dilemma. Waiting for it solve itself, to let the fate do its work.

So all we are instead is borrowed identities, that are broken, incomplete. No one knows the answer, so all we do is become sheep and follow the herd. All we are, are incomplete sentences, copying the style of a writer who copied a style from another.

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