I am you. You are the one sitting quietly at the table , trying not to make eye contact with the other people, because, god forbid, they might ask you a question. You, who walks with your head low, watching the ground under your feet closely, as if it might collapse underneath you. You are me, because I am you and we are each other, because we are the same as one another. You are the observer, you might be the later writer, the later anything really. You might as well be the next drunk in the family. But why should I explain to you what you are. Or maybe this is exactly what you, which is really I, want.... Why do you just observe? Are you shy? Am I shy? Do I want to stay quiet because I do not like the company I am in? Maybe I am a loner? Maybe life has beaten me down to the point where I don’t even want to look up? Maybe I am watching the ground so closely because everything in my life is so unstable, I am afraid that even the ground will disappear? I may even be everything from above, I may be neither.
I am you. The one with his head high. On the streets, in the mall, at school, wherever - you look like you own the place. You are confident, everyone knows you. You have a huge ego and you feed it everyday. You might want to change, but you don’t know how. Sometimes you might have a quite smart though in your head, but you push it away because of fear. Fear that you are going to be alone. You push it away because you want to fit in. You push it away just because.
I am you. You cry yourself to sleep every night. How could this have happened to you? What did yo do to deserve this? You spent your whole life trying to be the best you can be and this is what comes at you. Life hits you suddenly and it hits you hard, and you wish that you had done something about it. You wish you knew what to do. You wish you knew. You wish. You. I...
I am you. You are sitting in class and not listening to the teacher. Her voice is like a background noise to your thoughts. Thoughts so different that you don’t even know what you are thinking about. I know what you are. You are numb. You have gone trough so much that you don’t even care anymore. So many people have left you behind, so many have moved on, your heart has been broken to the point where you just don’t try to fix it anymore. You just leave it in the drawer, because of some weird sentimentality that just won’t let you throw it out. But you don’t use it either. You don’t care what people around you are going to do, you don’t give a s*** about what your present “friends” are going to do. You just don’t fucking care about anything. You might act like it sometimes, you might even be a good person, you might do good deeds and get good grades. You might not be the school freak, you might be, but whatever, you don’t care. You are done caring. No more feelings, no more nothing, they don’t deserve it. You are done. F*** it. You are numb.
I am you. I am you when you are the one that fights. I am you when you are the one that gives up. The one that gives. The one that takes. I am you when you teach, when you are taught. I am you who gained, who lost. I am you when you cry, when you laugh, when you feel. I am you now and forever. You are me, because I am you and we are each other, because we are the same as one another