On this desolate world, I see only myself. A road ahead paves itself where I lay my eyes. Justifying change makes all directions an inevitability. Unbreathable air, a penalty for my misdemeanours.
People tend to search for themselves in things unrelated to their circumstances. For the human mind is entrapped by its own intrigues. I, too, found myself in others through the mirror of my own gaze, if not the reflections of a detail. We read into them like we do ourselves, as we speak to ourselves when we face another. Yet, oblivious to most, we remain unaffected by humanity calling out the humane from under our skin.
Seeking one's depth by the means of refraction only serves a reminder of existential burden. But the screen, an echo of wishes to believe in, is only a web bound to be entrapped in. Making believe one cannot live without it, ignorance maintains its illusion.
I sought myself through the hollow words of others, promises in vain, for their disinterest provided me with broken pieces. I was no one, but these fragments that I had wanted them to know.
Far from finished, for the path is said to have no end. Trees replace a forest when I know only its shape by touch, as I shall walk from their depths to the closest of myself.