Maybe we’re all part of a bigger plan. Maybe we’re spirits in an ungodly world. Maybe there is no reality, no truth. Maybe we’re all distortions of ourselves. Maybe we’re too naive to grasp onto something. Maybe we don’t even exist, maybe this is all a vivid dream. Maybe we’re all floating in sleep, lost in our dreamland. Maybe we’re stuck there. Maybe this world is a dome, caging us. Maybe we all are suffering from paranoia. Maybe we are monsters, hiding knives behind our backs. Maybe we’re too anxious to get out of this sham called ‘life’. Maybe we’re like actors in a play, entering when required and exiting when no one needs us. Maybe we’re dead from inside, no life, no emotions. Maybe we’re caught up in the high tides of societal norms. Maybe we’re caging our inner child who is trying to get out, but we can’t let it happen because we’re too afraid. Maybe we’re crushed pieces of paper. Maybe this was our choice. Maybe we were too angry at ourselves.



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