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Night has come again for me to join her in her solitude, for her to make me feel less lonely. Most of the times, she does serve as companion, but it is too ambiguous for me to truly feel her presence around me. Yes, I see her light, and yes, I see it projecting through me. I feel her power bringing me back to life, to this prototype of life. I really like her even when it was not long ago when I started to even consider that her actual presence existed.
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Night has come again for me to join her in her solitude, for her to make me feel less lonely. Most of the times, she does serve as companion, but it is too ambiguous for me to truly feel her presence around me. Yes, I see her light, and yes, I see it projecting through me. I feel her power bringing me back to life, to this prototype of life. I really like her even when it was not long ago when I started to even consider that her actual presence existed. There was always this voice playing in the wind every time I woke up on top of my grave, a voice that told me so many things at once. So many secrets I should have known, secrets I always pondered about throughout my lifetime. They all faced disclosure as it they were nothing, as if no one was asking nor responding them, as if I already knew. It took a while for me to adapt to the lonely nights, and eventually I had to fall in love with the idea that the moon was matching over me every single second I spend in this cemetery, under her tutelage. As wise as the wind tells me she is, she doesn’t seem to speak to me in any way. My new inculcated knowledge tries too hard to make me believe and wait for guidance. What guidance? Guide to what? I don’t see purpose left, all that went away when she killed me. I was so angry, I was so confused. I still am, but I guess that with time, you get used to confusion. One gets used to the uncertainty, making the anxiety of unknowing fade away, building a nest inside you, growing roots. I don’t think I’m able to drop the confusion, not even if God came to me right now and answered me out loud all those questions. I would simply deny them, I would believe they are untrue. In the end, nothing makes sense. I have little to do with humans anymore, but they didn’t make sense either. At least I know and remember I didn’t. Always attached to a feeling, always attached to instinct, looking for someone or something totally out of place, without any logic. Logic is merely hypothetical, based in what you know, which is basically nothing. Logic is funny, for it made us all believe a false but believable truth. We bought that true because we knew we didn’t have any more money for anything else. That doesn’t matter anymore, for I don’t have no one to brag about it, to brag about my superior but blurry knowledge. I’m not here to talk, at least I know that, but that is all one can do when you wait for the moon. Talking to myself was never a problem, I even found it therapeutic back at my school years, but who am I fooling? Throughout all those years, in essence, all I purely did was grow an addiction for people. And all of a sudden, I’m left with nothing but silence and the alleged company of a celestial body miles away from me. What a joke, but well, I guess I deserve it. Another night alone won’t make any difference. There is always things to think about, even when I already know the truth of them all, supposedly. It’
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