What if… from the very start,

there was never really a “me” here?

What if…

all the memories I carried

were lies from the beginning?

Would it still mean anything?

And if no one could see me anymore…

Could I still call this living?

Hey…

Have you ever thought

you were truly “you”?

The “me” reflected in someone’s eyes,

the “me” kept inside someone’s memory—

none of it ever lined up

with what I felt was real.

No hope, not even despair.

Just broken pieces I kept holding.

Feelings falling apart,

and still—

I’m just here.

I keep wandering, chasing an answer.

Sometimes,

my past self whispers:

“Why are you still alive?”

I try to answer—

but silence comes.

Because the moment I put it into words,

I feel like something ends.

my heartbeat slows down.

It’s like something’s holding me back.

A feeling that won’t fade,

a presence without a name.

my senses are bleeding away.

Memories drowning in static,

and with the dream—

everything, everything disappears.

Because the moment I spoke,

I knew it would turn into a lie.

The “real me” I hid from everyone—

maybe it never existed at all.

Even if it was just an illusion,

I don’t want it to end yet.

Hey…

Do you remember the times you were hurt?

The grudges, the things you couldn’t forgive?

Even those are slipping away.

Does that mean

I’m disappearing too?

I didn’t want to stop breathing,

I was scared of falling asleep.

Cold, quiet depths—

yet strangely gentle.

A place no one can touch,

no one can break.

My final place.

For some reason,

it still protected me

This existence—

it has no name.

Even now, it remains,

a nameless weight inside me

That alone is my truth.

What if I was never here