to be someone else

i tried to be someone else.

yesterday i combed my hair, bought some shoes and talked to people. some talked something similar to what i talked, so i thought they were like me. so i drank with them and poured my soul to find out, when they were sober, they were sane.

so today, i am back to being myself. i woke up and didn't look into the mirror. i have the shoes still in my cupboard; its laces waiting to be tied, not knowing they wouldn't ever be tied again.

but the alcohol bottle is back on my table. maybe dead bottles understand what the mad has to say.