This is not the life you're supposed to be living, Podi. Whose life is this? This isn't yours. Whose dreams are you living? Whose clothes are you wearing? This isn't your dream. This life isn't yours. This isn't you.
Who are you?
Whoever you are, you're feeling it, aren't you? You're wondering, is it just beginning? Or has it always been there? This life you're in -- this pseudo reality -- it's starting to unravel. Like loose threads of an old skein, your life is slipping through your fingers.
Sure you're holding everything together now. And maybe you can keep yourself intact. But for how long?
I can hear you breathing, Podi. I can feel your doubt. No more lies, you said. No more lies. Riddle me this, riddle me that.
What are you going to do Podi? Where are you going? Who are you?
