What on earth could I say about witness? I am a witness. I could say that I am a witness to my own demise. There’s nothing really bad about that to be honest. I’m a witness to myself. Only I can be my own witness. There is no one else who can vouch for me because who really knows me as well as I do? No one. There’s just me. I know that I’m not scared of anything because I have nothing to lose. I know that I am empty inside and I can say that “I’m empty” to others, but they will think I’m being melodramatic. That I’m “seeking attention”. That I’m “making it up”. There’s no one else who can be my witness. No one else I can go to. No one else I can rely on. There’s just me. And I’m okay with that. Because I don’t even think I deserve a witness. Someone to believe in me. Someone who knows me. Someone who is honest me and who I can be honest with. That option isn’t available to me. And I’m okay. I am my only witness. And that’s okay.
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