Wake
I am not beside you.
No, I am not reading out back.
No, I did not go to get coffee.
I am not here.
I was not here to begin with.
I am gone.
I have been gone for a long time.
You realize this.
Every time you reach for me in a half-wakened state, you realize that my presence was only behind your eyelids.
Yours is behind mine, as well.
Why am I cold?
Why do I not feel the pulse of a living being?
I know.
Attachment is the last block before enlightenment.
Sentimentality is pitiful by most standards.
Escapism is true weakness.
But …
Memories can replace frozen lakes and avalanches.
Reality is so much more comforting than a picture formed of rusty synapses.
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