Is this the end of the beginning or beginning of the end?

Unspoken words are just the beginning of a new end.
Nobody can understand me, if I am not able to clearly speak to myself. I feel myself like a oscillating particles; one is taking over the other one in a spiral. I am not used to speak about what I am.
Me, I am not me. I am a projection of the people who stare at me (including me). I must be able to elude the concerns. Then I’ll be able to include myself into my spiral thoughts.

I am moving. You are moving.

How do you think we could be able to talk about ourselves? We are like miserable strangers.

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