You see, I don’t exist. The scientific explanation would be too complex to redact in a certain paragraph of a drunk mind full of questions and theories.
I can love and I can’t forget that you, only you were the creator of my existence every once in a while. Every rejection you made me act, every kiss, every hug, every sickness and madness.
You created me. Now I’m taking my own body, soul and memories.
And all viceversa.
I created your morning sadness, your hopeless hoping, your love lie. I created the disappearance of our linked beating hearts.
Whatever. I’m drunk.