we’re all breadcrumbs

we do not exist as separate beings in the eyes of others.

when i speak to you, you translate what you hear into how it relates to yourself. when you look at me i become a reflection in your mind.

we can only love others when they become our own echoes. without relating an individuality to our own inner being, we see nothing at all. my words are a foreign language until translated by the minds of those who receive me.

my life is nonexistent as an essence in itself. i carve my name into a tree, and i transform myself into the wood, the leaves, the sun and earth that sustains it.

and the only me that i know has been glimpsed through the veil of my own past experiences imposed on me by others. i am nothing beyond those who have saved me and those who have hurt me.

beyond these concepts, there is only emptiness. i wear the mask of denial, the mask of an inexperienced writer, the mask of joy or the mask of tendencies.

what could possibly lie beneath? what is individuality beyond thoughts, actions, emotions and what we impose upon others?

we cannot be known beyond outside influences and bad translations.

a center is not an inherit piece of a structure. we seek it. we label it, yet it was never there to begin with. it becomes superficial. an outside concept. the mind creates it in order to find its bearings. all bearings are false notions.

to question a thing is to imply the absence of an answer.

i do not wish to question anymore.



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