To look and be okay with oneself,
to be comfortable with disapproval
What does it take?
How does it happen?
Questions that are asked a dime a dozen,
a thousand times for every person
Who comes my way..
Who leaves anyway..
A relationship that ends,
is it a solution found or an opportunity lost?
Perspective is the name of the game,
and somehow at the end of it all, it all seems the same.
Reminiscence of all that was once within reach?
Or ranting at that which remains?
Choices to make and roads to take,
With no one beside me, and yet I feel fake.
Is this too an act?
Am I still not known in fact?
The questions persist, and I as always, desist.
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