It’s full of water… plenty of it… and it’s available for all… and of course they all drink it… and they are all happy… except me… I see things they can’t see… and I still feel what they can’t feel … they don’t understand me… or they do understand but they can’t help me… they got used to it… they got used to this stupid of feeling of not feeling anything… of negativity… of letting things go… of accepting what I can’t live with… I feel like a crazy person… or maybe I am crazy… I can’t bear what they see normal… and I can’t live this life any more… I’ve had enough… I ask myself whether they are conscious or not… why am I so different… why can’t I admit the truth… why can’t I adapt to it… I am not sure whether I am forced to do so or not… All that I can say is that… I can’t drink from this water… I’d rather die thirsty than drinking from this River of Madness.
Mena Mostafa
