Wolves -Angus MacRae
I tried to be somebody else. I became one.
I was happy. It felt cool. People approached frequently proportionately incrementing my acceptance percentage.
Boyfriend after boyfriends. Girlfriends.
The patch was a success.
However, soon the ringing of emptiness became more and more palpable, and audible.
Soon, the silenced screams of lonesome pain became hard to ignore, to not feel.
I was lost and I knew I was breaking.
I was living in a beautiful lie, cheating myself.
Corrupted. Un-authentic. Shallow. Hollow.
A healthy retrospection and I finally decided to turn back to my old self; walk the same aching walks I once walked in fears and doubts.
I returned back to my own, the same old flesh and bones, that forgotten skin, those vulnerabilities.
This time though, utterly modest, a little wiser.
Away from the flashlight, to the true reality that’d matter.
Towards myself, into myself.