There, do you see? There, laid at your feet. Nothing exists. Nothing can be seen, because what once was is there no more. In the very front of my mind I can picture, I can feel, but not physically feel, not physically see.

It has become a thing of a memory. A thing of a dream. When love becomes a dream, that is where our souls are stranded far from any warmth, any hope. Everything is tainted numb and every motion turns thoughtless, just as a robot does what it is created to do.

We are not pieces of machinery, but when love is taken, our reason for living, we very well may be.

See, I feel everything and nothing all at once. Where there should be love, there is hollowness. There is loss that people will try to understand. There are people who simply cannot comprehend. There are moments you don’t want them to, because when love becomes nothing but a dream, so does life.

Walking feels like a mindless action, and slowly your feet get weighted until you tread as stiffly as the robots do. After all, isn’t walking just putting one for infront of the other? Is walking not a part of our coding?

When love becomes a dream, where does your purpose go? Where does your passion lie?—Up in the clouds, only there when you close your eyes to rest, and then gone again when the sun returns.

A dream is so bittersweet, it’s only a temporary thing. Maybe love is the same. Perhaps love was always a dream. What if everyone was just part of one big dream? Could it be that all it is is people refusing to wake up?

Wake up.

Walk, live, breathe.

If things are temporary then make them worth while. There are those who choose to live in darkness. There are those with no choice. If you have one, count yourself lucky and use it.

We are not robots. We are not pieces of machinery. We are one. We are broken but we are not functionless.