The return of the me
(or how some friends just let you be).
The thing you cannot find in the absence of me
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I used to think I was different
The story of me brings no other solution
than the fleeting joy
that comes from escaping it
The unfindable identification that is always present
To ‘identify with’ is a strange verb isn’t it? It’s not something that we can decide to do at will or decide not to do at all.
The essential part that makes itself up
Whatever we say about the reality we experience, it always is an interpretation. And does an interpretation really differ from a dream? Both are consist of images, words and sensations. Both of them seem real when experienced from the inside.