Walk, Talk, and Think

She talks, walks and think.

Not looking back on anything she passes through, she talks, walks and think.

Talks to herself about the things that have been happening, having an internal dialogue with her inner self that is not new to her but is new to the world and she is nervous.

Walks through the city with no destination in mind just her two feet going forward in the direction that they head her to. She might’ve preferred to drive but she didn’t have a car or a driver’s licence for that matter.

Thinks, she thinks of the things that had happened in the last couple of years, how her life was turned inside out by people she thought she could trust whole heartedly but came it came to a point where she couldn’t even trust herself with anything.

She thinks about her past, present, and future. How she was back then, how she is now and how she will be.

She’s confused and lonely, sad and alone, depressed and deprived of the explanation she knows she deserved.

She cries all of a sudden in the middle of the street, “Why the hell is this happening to me?”, as if waiting for someone to say something or some sign to fall to ground and answer her whims.

She talks, walks and think.

She knew that who she had become was a long way from the person she was before. She was different now, more cautious and scared. Because of the scars that were left on her life, the scars that are permanently etched on her skin, the scars that reminded her of how from the top she fell and no one was there to catch her, even the person she thought would catch her.

You can never know anyone fully even yourself, so you talk, walk and think.


Every night.

Every single second.





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