There is a funeral going on in my brain. I could sense the absence of him. He used to be an idealist, so alive that you couldn't imagine him dying even after ages. He was the kind to believe that he could use every bit of energy and power inside him to keep the fragments of the reasons to live in his hands without dropping any.
He became old fast as he was drowning in despair and hopelessness... His reasons to live on slipped through his hands, even though he hadn't aged much.
He passed the experience and knowledge he had gained in his little time to this self that I call "I".
Now with him gone, I remain very alive as he once used to be.
I feel the exhaustion and disappointment that he felt.
I want to sleep
A perfect way
Where you don't wake up
But you don't die either
You just simply lie
Without drowning anymore...
-someone struggling with insomnia and a chaotic mind
