I was born on the road, somewhere between east and west. Nobody knows exactly where, and I don't know exactly why. Confusion is something that is sown in me.
Good or bad, beautiful or ugly, things that are vague to define are always recurrent in my life.
The fear of not choosing what I thought right brought me face to face with a cursed wall. Full speed. That's a good position, I said to myself. Where do I go, I was asking myself? Should I steer? Left? Right? Wrong?
The guy beside me said something barely audible. I asked him again and again to repeat what the fuck he was saying. He mumbled some words. Words? Do we need words to describe things? Do we need words to hear ourselves? What if words are to blame?
One second I thought I should go backwards. But as long as time-travel was not yet possible, I was heading nowhere. In those moments I thought of you. I thought of how I kissed you and you kissed him. And I remembered your voice darling, saying 'let's see how far we can go. They, glorious, but we are who we are'.
Never mind, I think it's time to take this fucking decision. It's time to take the turn before my bones are getting old, before I forget who I am. Fuck walls, fuck words and fuck my heart. I don't want to get involved too much.
I am the boy who was forgotten. I am you.