I remember the sweet serendipity of a beautiful gift, and the carefreeness of a summer day. I remember the short-lived bursts of joy and the hypophrenia of the winter.
I remember the ballad of the flowers, and the unforgettable experience of being young.
Then I remember how it all started to crystallize beneath my feet, and I collapsed under the pressure. I remember how I became a refuge and a renegade, and the armageddon inside my mind that kept me from seeing things the way they should.
I remember the stellato sky, how it used to shine, but it didn't anymore. I remember the palace King and Queen, the sun and the moon, and all their faithful subjects, the stars. I remember the lacuna, the empty space where something should have been, though nothing was missing except for me.
I remember the crestfallen moments of life and the obscure pain and misery, and I remember the saudade; the longing for someone but knowing they will never come back, and how gravity and love have something to do with each other, because when one falls, the other does too.
I remember the facade of happiness I arranged, I remember the year I became a faker and a liar and a cheater, and I remember the wicked ways of the world.
I remember how we dug deep into our skin, deep into our pain, akin to those buried in cemeteries of loneliness, and I found myself in a graveyard.
I remember the beauty that ran through me, before I locked it away, and masqueraded through life.
I was a wanderer, lost, in my own beautiful world of soft belonging and smooth solitude.
I remember myself, I remember the world in which I used to live, and the bittersweet halcyon I was a part of.
This life is an insanity, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions run wild; I am a victim of melancholy expanded like a balloon, stretched thin and finally popped under the pressure, and everything exploded. I am a survivor of an attack within myself, in my quest for happiness. I am a swirling nightmare, and I hope one day that I can break out of a storm of emotions and thoughts and a soft, unconscious world I call home.
And as I sit through the storm of a lifetime, I can see above, I know what lays out for me and I can lift myself out above the clouds, and just enjoy the peaceful silence of the hurricane below me.
I am me. I am the halcyon of a reality untenated, and I am the whirlwind and the monster of a daydream I live in, and I am me, growing up in a daze, and I will never be whole, never be real, I am just a figment of my own imagination, held hostage by my own humanity, held accountable for my miserable existence.
I am Sophia.