Into the wild

Confusion, dullness, if only they stopped asking what I don't wanna give, let me go. Relapse time.

Wanna shy away because you remind me of prospective realities, and honestly I just wanna dream, alone, far.

I like being that foreign stranger no one knows, no one talk too. I can wander alone and never being asked who I am or why I live, because I'm no one, and I live for nothing, but these answers hurt so I don't wanna talk, hence if you don't talk my language, I love you.

Alone lies danger, would I survive? I guess that's why no one ever let me go. Hence I'm never asking.

Now I bitterly regret my cowardness, I shall never live uncongruently again, I made a mistake, it was painfull. But the sorrow to have to live more because of it is even greater.

Everything has an end, even dreams, even hope, even life.