I don’t like thinking that I’m better than others. I don’t want to be better than them in the way that makes them look disadvantaged and unwanted. In fact, I’d rather be like them than feel like I’m belonging somewhere. Most of the time I feel like I’m on the streets, or alone in empty rooms with no-one to talk to. I can’t call anyone and anyone I talk to is busy with their lives, occupied with their duties. Seems like I have no life to live, and this is not even an exaggeration. Ask me if I had a childhood. Ask me how I am. To each question, it cannot be answered properly. I’ve always wanted to escape but I’d need to know where I’d go and why I’d go there. Everything I’m searching for is always obscured by a cloud of doubt, sometimes it feels like I’m trapped inside of it. So I close my eyes, and I pray because I don’t even know what other solution, if any, there is. And waiting, I get my answer, when the cloud of doubt disappears and a clear sky of assurance guides me to someplace where I can rest myself. But eventually, I’ll be looking for that destination, and what scares me the most is whether or not the time that I have is wasted. If it is, what will become of me? I don’t want these words to have an empty meaning, a carrier of weightless dreams. Instead, I want to be known, at least, for my passion.