I Hate It, Too

by Abah

There will always be a shadow to your past - and there will be a way to cope it together.

22nd of September,

I vaguely remember how I was before – how everything changed in a matter of seconds, a split second, to be exact. The effects that I never anticipated, it happens in a split second.

I remember the days when my shadow would reflect on mirrors; I remember the days when to make a silly face on mirrors and storefronts with you beside me, now it's just something that I can't think for a second or two. I remember the days when the marbles of my mansion would reflect how tired I am after a day long typing in a cubicle, or after taking you for a walk in the park and enjoy life for what its worth. It is not a must, but to maintain your love life is the same as to manage yourself, how to make it healthy is hard, but to crush and crumble it into pieces is something a child can do for at least most of their time.

In the mansion where we love, laugh, and maintain ourselves, here I stand. Standing to emptiness, created by the deformation of my internal organs and internal feelings of love, compassion, and sensitive feelings of being loved. I was not sure at first, but now, it is more painful than a bullet in my head. A memory that lasts longer than you is more painful than a shot in your head, yes.

I was emotionally deformed, meant to be something sinister, expected to be something fearsome; but feelings? Emotions? It is not as easy as you think when you decided to remove it from someone's life. Still, here I stand, in a mansion we once love, in an estate where happiness was something to cherished and marriage is a thing that can never fell apart in between us. I was mentally deformed, meant to be something cold-blooded, expected to be something more a terror; but I was not ready for this, no, my cries were not prepared for this. How could you make a woman so sinister that they cried over themselves to bear the guilt of whatever you did to her?

I never thought that time will teach me the pain of memories and to endure it for as long as I live, as I roam the world, as I make another killing, to bargain it with memories again. To say that memories are worse than physical torture, at this rate I could say that is true. Time decays our recollections, what have we been told, experienced, saw, and sensed. Progressively it became soggy, and in a certain amount of time, it will be expired, and we had to throw it away, just like canned foods or bottled drinks.

Nevertheless, life cannot be that hard if windows and mirrors can see and reflect your shadow. I thought I was dead long ago, but windows still feel that I am still alive, well, safe and sound. Just as what as my husband wants and prayed.

You hate it, right? I hate it, too.

How funny when marble floors remind you a fruitful love that decayed, rusted, and eventually broken into pieces by a single bullet to the head, yeah, I remember that. Marble floors did not reflect anything, but in my case, it is entirely my backstory and how I became so sinister, how I turn into a cold-blooded killer, just in a finger snap. A big chateau that holds me right is not holding my feelings well. A hefty price for a marble floor is the same as a hefty price to kill your husband for an organisation that hates him so much that they kidnap you to only kill him.

Sitting on the windowsill and thinks that this will end eventually is not going to work, a bullet through someone's head is not repairable and every action that judges you every time you walk is not something to be reckoned with. 50 people with their brains splattered on the ground are not the same as your husband's brain splattered on the ground. I never thought that this will be the end of me, the end of my life.

Many will suggest me to sit on the windowsill as the sun rises from the horizon or when it sets to the depths of the ocean, only to transform into a moon. Many will also suggest that I have to sit on the windowsill for at least to see the most beautiful scenery ever, what they think it was the Lac D'Annecy, but what I believe is that to see the most beautiful view ever, you are going to incorporate feelings and emotions to it. For me, to integrate feelings and emotions while adding a handful and hurtful memories of the past is never going to work, even if the view is beautiful and worth taking pictures, with bad memories in your head, it's still gloomy and melancholic.

Well, my husband and I hate it, too.

My husband is a person that respected me so much that he'd gave me anything just to see me laugh or mid-day cuddles in the kitchen while I cook his best dish. I am a woman that is hard to please, and I acknowledged that my husband knows my weaknesses best. Better than my mother when she tried to lure me to eat broccoli or any other vegetables that I don't want to eat. To think in between two memories, sometimes I just wish to cry in laughter, but a smile from an emotionless who could not even think about jokes and could not write a beautiful letter with all the hyperboles is enough for me to reminisce the past.

There are a lot of things that we can reflect on. A puddle of rainwater, windows and storefronts, a gallon of water, clear rivers, and even a lonely lake in the middle of a clearing. Probably the last one will be my redemption. It is a rare occasion that you found a clearing in the middle of the small town in the southeastern part of France. Never have I in my life to visit such places to just enjoy nature as it is and enjoy the tranquillity it offered to me, free of charge. My husband knows how to send me tiny, silent pieces of the sun to create a flower of it.

Even if your shadow is long gone, stars will always be on the top of your head, guiding you through life and bring you back to somewhere more prominent and better. I never looked at my shadow and just keep walking, but I realised that to see my own shadow decayed in the sun and slowly disappearing is just nasty. I was hoping that it'd stay. Nevertheless, maybe I was born to be alone, perhaps I was never meant to deserve someone better, or am I destined to be a Lone Wolf all this time? Wandering, living, eating, and dying all alone?

My husband hates it,

And I hate it, too.

To see that little girl sitting down on the windowsill is a mixed between depressive and something that came out, straight out of a movie, a sappy, romantic films. She was 33 years old when she lost everything, the girl already lost her mother because her mother cheated on her husband that served the country to fight against the growing menace somewhere in this world. I can't do anything to repair her valuable life as the girl is getting herself comfortable with what she got today. She will find a way to look better and thinking everything's fine while everything that surrounds her is falling apart into pieces.

The girl's name is Amélie, Amélie Lacroix. A renowned ballerina and a painter for her own world. In her mother's eye, whatever she did is not something big, and indeed her mother would expect better from little Amélie. Every time she did something better than anyone else, it was not enough to please her mother, and so as she grew up, she began to despise her mother. It's a bit of twist of our life, right? A shadow wants something to say, and so be it.

Even in her current job, I will always stay with her, shall she lost everything, I'm still on her side. No matter what. I imagine what current events that holds her together, many will go insane after they lost everything and thoughts of suicide began to swirl in between their job, life, and eventually taking over their mind and so their soul spent on something that is not necessary and a waste of time.

I never fancy the light of the sun, but I feel guilty to see her walking without her shadow. I had to watch over her in between every shadow possible, 33 years of silence would lead me to something more significant and crucial, I'd say.

A shadow that can speak is not a thing that she would see every day, but if the time is right... Maybe I will take a chance to have a conversation with her, and she knows when you hide the truth and not telling her about it, let her know that even in that severe loneliness, she's still worthed for a shadow to talk. People would go nuts if they see or hear a shadow of a dead woman that walks the earth talking to her as if it was her only companion – maybe more like a dog or cat. Well, perhaps that's just how it'd go, and we prefer to keep it that way.

A shadow is... a place to hold undisclosed secrets that nobody would ever know or even see. A shadow... is not something that feels close to us, it's always meant for company, not for something emotional. But for Amélie, as she looked the horizon, watching the sunset as the days began to end, her shadow... I am... vital to her. Who would notice a person without shadow accompanying them?

Who are we to argue, right? Let the lonely be lonely, and shall them find their own happiness in the strangest forms of daily occasions, and Amélie knows best how to please herself in these desolate times. She knows she's strong, and I see that Amélie is stronger than she'd think.

If we think about love, many would recommend something that straight out of a movie, shadows of them would try their best to provide them with warmth, closeness, and anything that seemingly romantic. Amé never had that type of love since she was eight. She was a shy girl that finds it hard to talk with people, she prefers her own company than to be in anyone's embrace. Her amber eyes and voluptuous body is eye candy to many men she encountered in the streets of Annecy and some in Monaco. Amélie once said to herself that love does not need to be perfect, love is all about compassion and how you will fight for it with your preferred partner. Because of that thought, Amélie never finds a lover and now... it's more than devastation to her feelings, it's not repairable, broken beyond repair.

People most know her by the name of Amélie Lacroix, but she had no satisfaction. She has an adventurous mind that she will use many, many aliases that will suit her best. Ballet is also the thing she doesn't enjoy, and painting is just her hobby, not an occupation, and Amélie is just a fabrication of what she is now. Everything is a fabrication, Amélie once said, but what kind of lies?

She loves the stars as I am looking at the rain with sunshine. White acnes of skies began to emerge as she looks upon it, even in death, she is still a part of those acnes and those acnes gladly accept her within their beauties. Some say that we are just a wandering stardust that someday will scatter in the skies with a lot of other stardusts. I personally will agree to that, but for Amélie... she is more than stardust, at least that is what she thinks.

Even in death, her beauty is channelled through her eyes. She has the look of an antagonistic that in all of the sudden... cares for you, at the end of the story. It is unexpected, but this is what she felt after she lost everything. Amé never was a girl who likes to kill, she was forced to do it, and this is against her shy nature. How I wish Amé weren't dead, I hope that Amé had a beautiful life in the farmlands of France, working the land and sell whatever she grows in that area.

My shadow is a bit right in some cases, even in faraway places, it always makes me feel safe and after the death of Amélie Lacroix, that darkness still overshadowing my life. It gave me a whole new meaning of life that even in your shadow there is always a ray of hope, there is still something worth fighting for; indeed, my shadow knows best of what am I supposed to do.

We both agree that to fight over something different would cause a mess, considerable confusion in our coordination, my shadow that sat down on my mahogany dining set that my husband brought from her uncle's basement, refined and repaired. And I'm here, looking at the blue skies with my neck stiffen due to excessive thinking of something poetic but can't imagine or even think something beautiful that any teenagers would write on their personal blog to increase their readability and to attract new viewers and followers alike.

We are two different beings that trapped in a single realm called life, we are destined to be together, but it's still hard to get to know each other better. I haven't seen or understand or even experience something that as strange as this – a talking shadow that has a pretty in-depth argument while keeping the teenager side. Which I can't achieve it. We are two different beings with different perspectives in what we saw, we felt, we sensed, and we experienced. It is like see a world with four eyes, two noses, two mouths, four earlobes, and it's all in there, in our faces. I remember one time my friend told me an inconsequential tale of a man that almost matched to the current events of us. It was so funny that I can't stop laughing at it – and now I realised that the man's position is now in between myself that sits and looked at the ocean of clouds and the shadow that lies on the dining table, playing with her hairs.

We are two different beings that trapped in between reality. We are on the brink of a stalemate if we are caught arguing over things we should not discuss, and if we're supporting, there will always be one-sided. Either Amélie or I admitted our loss and follow whatever we want, ever since her transformation, she is stubborn as a goat. I don't like to compare her to a goat, but it is what I observed these days. She is hard to understand and harder to admit defeat, she is a determined woman that always wants to be the first of everything. I once said that it's not going to work correctly; yet she admits that she could do everything and still be the number one, despite any flaws found in her work.

We need help. Whenever we could not solve our problems, Amélie hates it and so am I.

Dear Shadow,

How are you? I wish this letter found you alive and well. Heh, I don't even understand why I wrote that, anyway.

Shadow,

Wherever you are, I need your help, we need your help. It is the most pleasant company that you and I reunited as one. Again. I don't want to lose you, and you don't want to leave me alone in the dark. Countless days and months I endure without your presence, it feels like I'm flying... it feels like I am a ghost. I am not talking about your physical appearance, I am talking about how... our emotions left us for good. Imagine our daily arguments, imagine things that will take us farther from peace. I need you, and you need me, it is simple as that, right?

Shadow,

How I wish you were here, seeing me staring at the skies every day just to see if I can write something poetic for your daily dose of melancholic needs. I wonder that the skies even heard what we are arguing over here, I supposed they would care about us if we both joined their cause and be a part of their community. I wonder if the land, sea, and air embrace us to get us even closer to a conclusion for our problems of disagreeing something we don't like. It is hard for me to live without a shadow and it is hard for you to live without a human being as your company. It seems everything around us is walking away slowly, leaving just the two of us solving our problems without thinking any possible ways to make it even.

Shadow,

I'm getting bored to see the ocean of clouds, my hands and feet stiffening as we speak through this letter. I just want you to know that I miss you so badly that I have no idea what my shadow looks like anymore. I envious when people had their shade overshadowing their body with joy, I just can't stand it. Their shadow seems to mock me every day I walk past them, instructing me to get lost or else, something like that.

What is a human use when he had no shadow overshadowing their life? What is the joy of not having a shadow of yourself?

Sincerely yours,

Amélie Lacroix, Shadowless Sharpshooter.

Dear Amélie,

I was nothing more the same as yours. I am fine and well, and that's okay. You do not need to understand why we greet each other and frankly, I don't have any idea why am I replying you.

Amélie,

I was thinking the same as yours, too. We hadn't seen each other for long, we argue and argue every day about how in between us. There's a little crevice for us to see the worse part of us and use it as a weapon to belittling the both of us, which will likely never meet to a conclusion of what we're doing and what are we trying to expose. I am sure that this is getting out of hand sooner than we thought.

Amélie,

If I ever made you feel worse or made you think that I am not worthed overshadowing your life, then I sincerely apologise for everything that makes you feel uneasy... I just want you to know that I am you, and you are me. We're the same with different planes, with different places to go.

Amélie,

I am sick sitting in waiting on the mahogany table set, sitting down to nothing but the ceiling and thinking that this will be over if one of us conceded defeat. This is not as easy as I thought, but sure that we need help, an urgent help. Let's put an end to this, and we shall forget it as soon as we shook hands and hugged each other.

Sincerely,

Your Shadow.

The Shadow flew across the hall and approached the little girl trapped inside a dead woman's body. The shadow asked. "Do you think that dad will approve this?" she jolted. "No, don't talk about dad... do you think that yourself will approve this?"

"I'm afraid that this is going to be me for the rest of my life, wasn't my choice, but I had to... had to do this for... someone."

The Shadow worried. "Wouldn't you be worried about someone's death?"

"Why you should worry about it when it's an inevitable event of the circle of our life?"

"What "this" and "someone" refers to, then?" the Shadow humbly asked.

"I had to kill for my boss, so I did."

"What will mother said about this, Amélie?"

"Who cares about her, she cheated on dad and claiming it was "nothing." So I guess, it's fine."

The Shadow sighed a bit. "Let's take a trip to your grave in the backyard, shall we?" she continued. "Reminiscing the older days of you being Amélie Lacroix... or should I say..."

"Amélie Juliette Guillard," Amélie nodded. "Let's go."

Amélie is a straightforward person, no matter how bad she screwed up or somebody screwed her up, her words and sentences are always honest. Never have I seen like this from a walking dead body. Amélie... is not spoiled enough to be this bad... to be someone who took another one's life with force, deadly force. I am her shadow, but it feels like I was someone else's shadow when she's around.

Amélie took a brief look at her grave before looking at the Shadow. "So, here it is, my grave. My beautiful grave."

Shadow informed. "Visited by no one since your dad last visit not too long ago, and just 15 months before his death by hanging on the noose."

"He... committed suicide?" Amélie asked, frowned. "I do not believe such things, Bébé. My father committed suicide because of me?"

Shadow shook her head. "No, it was not because of you. It is because he lost you and you are his precious gem."

"It is still my fault that my father lost me as his only daughter."

"It is not your fault, Amélie. Daddy did this because he loved you. He almost sold this mansion just to have bit information on your whereabouts."

Amélie laid herself on her grave and put her hands on the back of her head. "Hell," she said. "I wish he didn't do that for us, you know?"

The Shadow overshadowing Amélie. "Well, that was unexpected."

"Oui, I didn't expect that either," Amélie replied. "Wish he just stayed calm and believe that his daughter is safe in the right hands, even if that is all about killing, murdering, and things that a girl shouldn't do with a pair of gloves and a rifle."

"Alas, what can we do, Amélie? He is overprotecting you as if you were a rare gem of some sort, it is not that easy to protect a daughter when you are about to be a mother... or father, in our daddy's case."

"Trés certainement," she replied. "I couldn't agree more."

The Shadow moved away from Amélie's sight and laid down beside her. "What do you think of dad?"

As Amélie stared the sky and watching a flock of birds flew above her, she replied. "Daddy was an honest person, he loves his family as he loves his weapon, and he is willing to take his life for our safety – importantly me," she took a sigh. "He is overprotecting his beautiful gals for a change, but when mom cheated on him, I was his last resort of his sanity."

"And when he lost you..."

"This happens," she gave an untranslatable hand gesture. "Drunk to get himself together and when liquor can't do nothing to erase grief, then maybe hanging on the noose or a bullet in daddy's head would be the sufficient way to get rid of it. He wasn't ready for this, you know?"

"Anything else you'd like to say?" The Shadow humbly asked while chewing dry grass.

"I believe I have nothing more to say, his life was surprising since I was born to this upside down, whacky realm. He loved everything and was a people's person, but when he lost his two beautiful gals, now everyone knows that daddy hides his sorrow behind a veil of happiness."

"Not everyone as strong as what they think, is it not, Amélie?"

Amélie nodded. "Yes."

"What would you do if you are free to choose whatever path of your choice?"

Amélie gave a sigh. "Honestly, I don't know which part or way I should go. Life isn't a one-branched tree, it has a lot of branches, and it leads to somewhere else – parts unknown. Imagine your life as a tree, you will be confused by the time you learn that you reached the top without using one branch, but instead a lot of branches."

"You are a very observant person, Amélie."

"So do you, Shadow," Amélie replied while smiling at the Shadow. "You are also observant... wait..." Amélie frowned. "Well, you are me, right? Why bother complimenting me that?"

"Let a shadow have a little bit of fun, Amélie."

Amélie chuckled. "It used to be beautiful, Shadow."

As sky's white cotton began to overwhelm the blue sea of wonders, Amélie took a walk in the backyard and finally found herself a small notebook and a pen laying on the pier, how the dock built is unknown to both Amélie or the Shadow.

Amélie asked while sitting on the edge of the dock. "Haven't seen this one yet, Shadow?"

The Shadow nodded. "Oui, I haven't seen this one. I believe I don't know who built this. It seems it's built aeons ago," she added. "What have you got there, Amélie?"

"It looks like a book and a pen, I don't know who left this here, so why don't take a chance to make it a little better, right?"

"Indeed, it is such a waste of a resource that no one would take a good look at this beautiful book in your hands, Amélie."

"Maybe it was here before I even knew it, well, maybe this will keep me company for a bit."

"What are you going to do with the book?" The Shadow asked.

"Write something that an emotionless shouldn't write," she continued. "It has been years since I last wrote a sentence or two, maybe my handwriting will messy as a boy's bedroom."

The Shadow said. "You could give it a try, someday," she looked at her fingertips and turning it around. "It's probably best for you to keep your handwriting very, very neat. A respectful man in life doesn't want to marry a woman that has badly drawn hieroglyphs."

Amélie put her hands on her waist. "So, you say that I have bad handwriting?"

The Shadow frowned and facepalmed. "No, I mean, you have to spare some of your time sitting down on that balcony of yours and write something about it. Even you are emotionless and can't even write poetic things, it doesn't mean that you are completely forgotten how to write, right?"

"I guess," she said while looking at the book and the pen. "It has been years, and I don't... well, maybe I can try to write something. Sorry for that misunderstanding, bébé."

25th of September,

When people send their tidal wave of love for you, either you like it or not, it is a magical thing a man can experience. I guess life is never that sarcastic and challenging. How funny when I tell myself that I could write again, it was not something I anticipated at first but it is getting me on edge – it's like drugs. All of this loneliness and being alone is something that I can relate to writing, even if I don't get a glimpse of what romance looks like or relationship at the very least. Throughout my life as an assassin that worked to only get paid and getting more paid with different and challenging contracts that could get myself killed, I grew my hate on my shadow – even before all of this happened.

I can't stand a thing called "arguing," sometimes it leads me to kill or at least hurt people I shouldn't bother to punch in their faces. The blue skies and white clouds made of cotton made everything a bit better for a while, seeing it flying away around my eye's horizon and giving abstract dialogues of how life should going and how you are going to change it for a thing or two. Clouds gave me things that I don't need, but it's advantageous. The deep thoughts. Everybody knows that, and I just knew this by sitting down on that balcony all day with wine to get rid of everything and to cope myself with excessive exposure of killing people.

Still, I can vaguely remember how it was for me back in the day. I can vaguely memorise the earlier days of Amélie Juliette Guillard and how she hates spiders more than anything else.

I vaguely remember how my shadow reflecting on the surface of the Lake of Annecy as a child. Listening to an alternative rock song and repeatedly playing the same thing for a week or so, just to get my mind going and find any honeyed words for me to craft to create useful stuff out of it. Even I have stripped away from being human as much as that Talon can do, I think to craft such honeyed words is not that hard… well, it is hard for the first timers such as myself.

It took us three days to configure and reset everything from scratch. Three days laying on my grave and sitting on the windowsill together. Ever since the Talon took me and my life, I can never love again. Although I could feel what other's feel. A bit. It's still an Améd experience to remember what was happening in the past, it took me my whole energy to just think an unforgettable experience. Being emotionless is unforgiving, you had to sacrifice everything to just let your veils fallen to the ground, revealing who you are behind it.

I haven't revealed myself since the Accident, I was not sure enough that I can endure all the judgments and the burden I have to carry for the rest of my life. A thousand hands I shook, but none of them was worthed, a thousand hands I helped, but none of them gave a significant impact on my life, but does one hand is enough to keep me company? The fingers of a ghost can bring you everywhere. The guilt of the past, the reformation of the present, and the consequences of the future, for us to cherished or to make another burden for the far future.

Ever since I was kidnapped, I never know what love is and how it works. I used to love everything and everyone, I use to like romantic movies and listening to romantic songs. But, still, I can vaguely remember how it was back in the day, vividly overthinks that those things will come back in anytime soon, went back to a body once known as Amélie Lacroix née Juliette Guillard. The Shadow convinced me that whatever happens to me now is not something the past would likely to welcome it with a warm heart, I left that all behind and begin a new journey.

What will happen if an emotionless who doesn't deserve to live, love, and loathing over herself overthinks about the world?

Just like my father used to say. "Whoever you are right now, face the truth and swallow it whole."

Big Amé knows that her life worthed since day one of her birth. I never knew that exist! Big Amé is my friend of the future, and I had to search for her to continue her quest as the normal Big Amé, although she had to carry the burden of being the ruthless assassin in the world. Big Amé may not notice my presence, but it is a pleasant talk to see her wondering about the world and how she will partake it as a human being. Big Amé and I was a thinker, a wanderer of thoughts, a settler in our fallen veils. We had so many masks that we had to scrape it off first to see who we are and to inform other people that we are... exist. Nonetheless, Big Amé had enough of being melancholic, but she won't admit that she is a very melancholic being.

It seems life is getting fair on me, I am not sure whether should I appreciate it for what its worth or just keep being on melancholic. Life is sure an unknown thing for a human to understand, let alone an emotionless who just told to kill random people for quick cash. A visit from two distant pasts is not an occurrence that I anticipated highly, very highly. In my sleep, I was wondering if this is just a dream of some sort and waking up still on my bed with my rifle on its stand facing towards the door. Well, apparently, it's not a dream.

The Juliette Guillard's Shadow and Lil' Amé is either a blessing or an annoyance. I still can't quite figure out how to get rid this dilemmatic problem from my shadowless form. For a moment, I wasn't sure that this type of conversation would happen to me in such a short time, yet I haven't figured out how this is all happening so quickly in three days of my life as a middle-aged woman who shoots people and gets money from it. I remember one time I went to a web that offers a hitman help to get rid of a person that you don't like – and my job is nothing close to that.

Still, I can vaguely remember how I was before. I am a hundred percent sure that I don't know how my shadow looks like or my younger-self looks like. Everything that crossed my mind is surreal, and I prefer to keep it that way.

It's a bit off-topic and quite informal to talk to, but I know that this will keep me going sane and to talk about everything about these two lovely shadows overshadowing my shadowless form is sure an interesting topic to share.

I have befriended the darkness for the rest of my life that I forget how I live in the light and all its beauty. A company from the obscurity made me disremember how light shares its charm and all of its happiness around me. I felt like I was a vampire of some sort that lives in the dark and hates the light. Now, I know why those thirty-two years wasn't worthed at all, wasn't worth residing for, wasn't worth for anything.

The Darkness controlled me like an RC car. Slowly and steadily I regained consciousness and went to tame the Darkness itself, but even in its unstable condition, The Darkness still can vaguely remember how Amélie Juliette Guillard faced it with such courage that even a spider is a significant obstacle for her to go where she wants. The Darkness made me think twice about life, twice to be loved again, twice to almost killing myself with the rifle I had for at least years of service with Talon.

Even in life, reflection still wants to kill you, meant to be something reflective, expected to be something life changing – but it is more sinister than you thought when you look deeper than anyone else have ever been. Life is an... abstrait dialogue, it's an abstract that anywho guessed anything would likely to miss, and it's deadly wrong. Well, I was to believe this abstrait discussion ever since. No wonder that my soul and my heart wanders to the unknown that they never met once and for all. Hmph, it is no surprise that I can never feel what other's felt, looking at each other seems like a judgment – not something friendly, not something... very favourable.

Maybe Talon wants to help me cope with this complex yet beautiful matter called feeling.

Maybe I was born emotionless and meant to be that way.

Maybe we are born to feel nothing but anguish and agony.

It is a pleasure to meet you, dear Darkness. Haven't seen you since, and I don't even know how'd you look like now. Life is and was an abstract dialogue, and this conversation is what I thoroughly enjoy after a few wild rides of the roller coaster of life. After this talk ended, maybe I will follow you to the ends of the Earth, trying to find my purpose and trying to find things that I do understand and will forever be recognised – not this life, not this walking dead body.

I hate to learn to walk again, had taken a lot of stepping stones to only go back again to the start. Sitting on that pier every day and every night makes me feel a bit humane, better than the windowsill or the balcony. The wind sways my memories and re-open my mind to something new, the Shadows began to fade into the light as I vividly remember how I was before and how I just killed a man six days ago.

A million miles away from where I sit, I began to think I lost my way and the past started to wear off as I smiled at the emerging moon and a few her stars. The past stayed with the venoms of my suffering and now it's a perfect time to start anew.

I knew that to lose is to love, and I learn something today.