I don't want any more---I'm done with this page! It scattered me, scattered me to death... Don't you know that everything has its limit? Not even love suffers forever! Will you bring me back the weeping mornings? And the nights I couldn't sleep, and the words that froze upon my tongue, the shattered pieces of my heart...will you return them too? What did I do that turned against me like that? I loved you! That's all! Today I feel cheated, sold--- sacrificed upon the altar of love! Go away...It's past now! You were never even in my life! My heart has turned to stone for you... Whom am I speaking to? You? Do you even exist?
# Non-existence I have learnt the art of non-existence— how to slip away without a sound, how to dissolve like salt in water, leaving only a faint bitterness on the tongue. I have practised the grammar of absence, conjugating emptiness in all its tenses: I am not, I was not, I shall not be. Each negation a small death, each silence a masterclass in vanishing. They search for me in crowded rooms, call my name into the dark, but I have already become the dark— a shadow without a body, a voice without a throat. I have perfected the art of taking up no space, of being the air between words, the pause between heartbeats, the space where memory dies. Once, I was something. Once, I cast a shadow. But I have learnt to love the lightless places, to make a home in the hollow of my own chest, to call non-existence by a sweeter name— peace.
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