Life was something that happened to us, in fear, controlled, directed, juged. We grew to exist only in those hidden moments, in between tasks and obligations, away from the daylight and the scrutinous eyes of our elders.
Our atrophied souls buried deep in our bodies, severed from the puppets we had become, milimitarized action/reaction, programmed by a society fearful of what we could become.
And as our souls had gone into the darkest parts, so we went to look for them. Despair, night roaming, street watching, drug taking. Reckless and innocent, afraid of the depth that awaited us, nowhere to turn back.
Those who had been scarred to deeply to have a choice continued further, darker, into the world's nightmares, fears and criminality. Others, myself, spat out, ended up battered and damaged, frail of confusion, on the shores of a world we did not recognise.
There is nothing left to mourn. I remember a friendship, laughs, boldness, egoism. I remember a cry, a pain, a fear. I remember anger and hypocrisy, I remember violence. There is a darkness that connects us, always, and we give it many names - friendship, enmity, love, hate - and we believe in the names, so much, we believe until it's too late to realise connections are nameless, we believe until it's too late to turn around, to give up, to remain.
No one was innocent. I stand here, years later, as the world, perpetual, immobile, cries it's endless tears, tragic and lifeless. All I have left are memories I can't mourn.