Maybe we are all destined to meet our creators at the end.
Or maybe before that?
Maybe, with every heartbeat, we are all destined to die a little bit.
So what is left for the end?
Hollow shells, filled with pieces we stole from others, just like they stole from us...?
I choose to believe otherwise.
I believe we are filled with echoes of laughter from strangers we made laugh, filled with oceans we have swum in, tears we swallowed, kisses on friends' cheeks, and letters we have never sent.
So you see, in the end, we have already met our creators.
Everything and everyone taking our breath away are the ones who robbed and made us the most.
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Comments (1)
Brilliant writing. So poignant!