The roof demolished, bedroom ablaze, walls dragged down till there was nothing left but rubble and ash. If memories are possessions like hanging pictures in frames, then why do they stand so empty? Let them fall, lost and forgotten. Days spent in a house, not a home – enough. I shall start building from the foundation, but how much of my surroundings are made purely out of belief, confidence… faith?
“You must be the person you have never had the courage to be. Gradually, you will discover that you are that person, but until you can see this clearly, you must pretend and invent.”
If I allow myself to entirely become engulfed by the ideology of Flowgress, rather than being absorbed into a pit of pity… maybe… just maybe we could fake it till we make it? Who can say it’s fake… if we make it?