There's an inner me: quietly contemplative, sensitive and a melancholic. Perhaps like a poet, afraid to be happy because happiness is meaningless when it is so inevitably fleeting.
There's an outer me: brash yet awkward, outgoing yet shy. Sometimes fun and always given to excesses. A rough shell that yearns for a life of its own.
If I stood at the cliff overlooking the world how many of Me would give in to temptation? How many would stand fast? If I travelled to the ends of the earth what would I find there? Rocks and the sea? Myself and emptiness?
Between these two caught is Me. A dreamer and a nihilist, an optimist and a pretender. Form without form, thoughts without beliefs... at least some of the time.
