We were both victims, you and I, circumstantial altercations that swept our bodies and minds, rendering us useless in most situations, ignorant to things that mattered; the blurry image through the lenses of stigmas and lies. You see, we were set for failure from the very beginning. Unrealistic expectations and societal dilemmas impregnated our souls with borrowed views and opinions that blinded us, that chained us in eternal darkness. We were thrown in a garden were love doesn’t grow and asked to thrive under such circumstances.
Then the veil was lifted and you saw who I really was, a person you never knew, broken and sad, not truly aware of his surroundings and not knowing how to act. And you, with your vain expectations and selfish arguments, with your implanted desires and what they told you things should be like. You couldn’t handle the raw reality that had always been hidden. The flimsy thought of staying and fighting quickly flew out of you, like a butterfly on a mission to find the perfect flower, the ultimate truth. Yet, it doesn’t matter, and I don’t blame you. We were victims, you and I, of something greater, of something dark. And yet we somehow survived and built our own lives, maybe not as perfect or pure as it was expected, but ours for the very first time, blemishes and all. It was the most real iteration of who we truly were, the perfect representation of our limited freedom.
Because at the end of everything we were simple slaves, and nothing more.