The dog licked me first thing in the morning. I was still caught between sleep and reality, my body heavy, my eyes trying to stay closed. He, with his innocent joy, was the first to realize that the day had begun. Does he like me, or does he just need me? Or maybe he likes me because he needs me? I don''t know. I wonder if it''s the same with me. Do I really like people, or am I just waiting for something in return? Is there such a thing as a relationship without selfishness?


    I covered myself with the blankets again, as if that could stop time, stop the questions. For months, I had a reason to get out of bed.  Now, I only have the weight of everything I try to ignore and a reason to let myself be consumed by nothingness. What’s going on inside me becomes more confusing each day. Does he understand this? The dog, so simple, so direct. He doesn’t judge me, but I get stuck in my own issues. Deep down, I wonder if he has any understanding of my doubts. Or if he only sees me the way I see him, both of us searching for something we can’t find.


    Then I return to a thought: Does the idea of becoming a burden to me bother him? Or is that just something I created to protect myself from the pain of feeling alone? The truth is, he could never be a burden to me, no matter what happens. Sometimes, I feel like the whole world is a burden, but not him... he’s here, without asking questions, without expecting answers, just existing.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    But what if those two entities, those two realities, aren’t as separate as they seem? What if there’s a connection, even if invisible? How do we perceive those interconnections? Are they real or just in our minds, made of associations that are nothing more than memories and reflections projected into the present? And music... how could that express it? Are the associations we make genuine, or just created, fed by something that has no origin in the real world? How can reality, in the end, be what we see or what we feel? What if, deep down, everything we see is just a distorted reflection of what we already carry inside?


    These questions seem to grow inside me as I try to understand what I feel and why I feel what I feel. But maybe, in the end, I just need more silence. More of that silence that only exists in the now my mind insists on rejecting.