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Out of all the people I've been talking to there's no one who could fill me for all have been spouting meaningless tales and advises taken from their own blind perspective about how life is supposed to be lived
It's sad but it's my lot for I do not bed the world to be understood because I know it won't make the least effort to
It's sad but I have been too jaded—I'm used to it— I've been talking to my shadow or my reflection in the mirror —both of which are me— as the only way to survive
Call me crazy, call me vile Call me all the things you wish upon knowing what you thought was my predicament But I'll tell you—it's better to live a life of solitude in peace with just yourself than spend years and eras shouting into the void trying to get misguided souls and immature voices to understand my language
I've been in that hell and as I get out of it I realize—it's better to talk to my shadow than be left in the dark by the fast pace of life
It's better to smile at my own reflection than endure a lifetime of disappointed looks from faceless people and ugly expectations —it's better because I'm free
