Forgotten Fairytales.

There was a point somewhere in some of these years gone by, where I left me. For fear, that if I didn't pick up a new identity soon, I will cease to exist. That was the first and till now, the only time I abandoned me. Left it at some point, the way to which I do not remember, and I didn't really leave any trail to take me back to it. Further more, there are bits of me, left strewn here and there over a time frame of how so many years and a vast expanse of space. 

Of late, I have been longing for those bits of me. I look me in the mirror and I see lines which changed, eyes which reflect the depth and fields of solitude which were merely just muddy green and nothing more back then. I see a calm face, and in it the countless animated lines it contorted into back then, I see a controlled quiet smile which knew no boundation for it's lack or excess earlier. 

Somewhere out there lies a mind uncorrupted by possibilities. 

There was black, there was white. There was a swing in the rains. There was sweat in summer. There was a garden. There were facts. In stubbornness there was a relenting hand. In tears, there was empathy. In anger, there was a sorry. In hunger, there was food. In love, there was happiness. In sorrow, there was company. In defeat, there was a buck up. In victory, there was a cheer. It was to be that, only that. 

Then, it rained. And how. In my heart.

And it kept raining. And I didn't know anymore, the landscape, it changed. 

Forever. 

Possibilities. 

Corruption. Fiction. Lies. Hunger. Love. Hate. Myth. Trust. Promise. Breaks.

And many more. They all had a million different ends. A million different things with that many ends for each of them.

I want that. I want the end of possibilities. 

For it was for the possibility of making it through the day, that I shrugged off who I was. I want the garden, the empathizing hand, the cheer, the happiness. 

I made it that day. What did I gain but. A self I do not recognize. 

Why didn't I perish then. 

Why didn't I. 

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