Years in silence, my existence is vague | I look for answers, but find more questions instead | I ask myself often, who am I? | what is it that I believe? |what makes me happy? | Am I even real? | or am I just like one of those matryoshka dolls- Just layer after layer to find an empty core?| What if I never developed a self? |what if all I am is all I was told to be?| why is this quest so difficult? how do I know me?| Should I speak or just listen? | Should I walk in the sunlight? | Would it burn my skin, after so many years in the shadows? | must I really be liked? | Or is that just an unnecessary part of life that’s given too much importance? | How do I know if I’m going the right way? | Where do I even want to reach? | Sometimes I feel like sanity just wants to leave my mind, and I’m holding on to it desperately because that’s how I was told to be- sane. | But maybe it’s not for me | Maybe I’ll find myself, after I meet my insanity;
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