Ja, darker days and darker times I was a bit weird. Welcome to the inner workings of my twisted mind! Untitled XIII Falling. He was falling. He was falling into the dark hole. The puppet was falling. Why did not his strings hold him up? His strings that controlled him. ...Broken. He was free. Free. A new word. All his life he had performed. He moved for them. They made him move. Who were they? They looked weird. They, they were not like him. They had controlled him. But, yes, he was free. But, yes, he was falling. What should he do? He thinks. He thinks he sees others. Others falling too. Are they too, puppets? With broken strings. Yes. They were broken puppets. Falling. But, they are different. He was not sure. Are they dead? Yes. No. Some are dead. Given up, having fallen so long. But others, yes, alive. Others, not giving in. But more are dieing. Some suddenly appear. New puppets with broken strings. Others disappear. Where to? Forgotten. No one remembers. They are memories forgotten. He won't be. Light. Light in the wall. Lights all over. Other puppets escape. All is gray. He too, will escape. He too, will be free. He lands. He lands in a cave. Others continues to fall behind him. He walks on. A plain. A plain is all he sees. Rocks. Barren is the plain. He walks. He walks until he feels no pain. He walks until he stops. He is leaking. What is he leaking? All is gray? Water pours from his hands. He leaks. Water from his eyes. Water form his mouth. Draining. His body is draining. Slowly, all fades. Gray turns to black. Black turns to white. He awakes. He is in nothing. All is white. Alone. No one. He walks. He has no water left. He falls. He gets up and crawls. Was he at last forgotten? Who knows? Maybe he is still walking? Walking forgotten in nothing.
