Origin of Thoughts

Because I can't feel my legs anymore. They're dangling on the floor of a room miles away, where they wish to be. Not here. They were not meant to be here this long. Fingers try to make castles out of the humid dry air. Nothing. The dark is blinding. And I see everything. That's why it all mixes up into one single colour. The colour of the world. And you think I can't see a thing. And my mind? You ask if my mind was in the right place? Could you point me out where it is actually supposed to be? Is it supposed to be dangling on the butcher's where all of you have laid yours? Have you thrown it to the sea because you wanted to start clear? You know where my mind is? It's in the middle of a bridge. One side of it leads to your reality. Another leads to my home. Tell me where I should go.

Inside Out. I'm running. I'm running, so fast that my breath is louder than my footsteps. I have no time to tumble. Behind me I see people shouting at me to run faster, telling me how proud they are of me. In front of me, I see my heroes, waiting to grab me and pull me to a place beyond this soul crushing forest. Sometimes I don't know what I am running for. It's like I'm running, looking for places where I can heal, but with every mile I keep losing bits and pieces of me. Often, I get scared that at the end, there will be nothing left of me. That one day I will reach the mountain top but when I look at myself I will see nothing. Nothing at all. Is it worth it? One day, I will not be scared of death. I will let it feast on me and happily remember all the times this body has helped me, betrayed me. But for now, I'm a coward. I don't yet want to meet my inner self. This side of me has done too many wrongs. I have though, explored myself in so m...

The Person Behind This Person Dear Friend, I'm trying to be myself. I'm not yet there. Over the years I have looked at this body, these words, these possibilities, through other's eyes. Mirrors cannot penetrate deep into my soul and show me the real me, and neither can you. You have yourself to take care of first. I am a mere creature, whose body is relaxed peacefully on this chair, but whose soul has been aimlessly wandering through the streets of this city for years, hoping, that maybe today it would find its true identity. I wonder how I am. I have not met with myself, someday, though, I will. I will meet myself lost in time, sometimes looking for scissors to chop off my rough edges, other times sharpening my soul. I will meet myself, grab shoulders, shake myself up and look straight into my own eyes. I want to see me. How am I? Why do I never get tired of this question? Why do I always want to hear from people about how I am even if I know their answers? W...

The Gray Side. It's the horizon that I want. Your horizon. Your black and white side, I've seen them. If I haven't, I have felt them. I have felt their power, I know, at least a little, of what they are capable of. Your demons. Your angels. Locked up in opposite corners of your soul. They know me. I don't know them. I don’t know if they look at me with anger or patience. But they have seen me, through the bars of their cage. They have figured out what I am. Who I am. Or at least, how I am, from the outside. I want to, NO I have to, See your horizon. Your gray side. I have to see your gray side. Where your angels and demons meet. Where there is no wrong or right. Where you're peacefully numb, where you're happily lost. Where you're not what others see. Where you're exactly what your eyes tell me. Where you don't take a step back or run to me if you find me. I want to see your gray side. I'm not me. I have neither angels, no...