I regret what I stopped doing more than what I did wrong
I miss things that never happened, the possibility of experiencing them once excited me
But now the time has passed
All that remains with me are smiles, pleasant memories, sounds, smells.
They say longing is the joy of being sad
I don't know whether to call this longing
This is for all the times I didn't take a chance because of fear
It's for everything that could've been
This is, also, for everything that was
For the times I felt as alive as those who nearly died but didn't
Am I still the same?
And if not, is that wrong?
It's strange... Do you exist?
What body does your soul inhabit?
Do I know you?
Do I have you?
Did I have you or will I have you?
There's so many questions
It rains and the music in the background is aligned with what I feel
Do I exist?
Will I exist?
