questions

Who was I before I met everyone who became a part of me? How did I talk? Was it the same as now, or different? Am I a mimic, or a lover? Do we steal what we admire, or are we drawn to those who are already like us? Do we find each other and draw it out, thieves, all, and full of hunger? Are we forever ghosts haunting each others’ halls, clinging to the wallpaper, rising from the fireplaces, long after our bodies have gone? Why is everything so beautiful today? Am I dying? Or is this what it means to finally feel alive