I don’t like talking about myself, but I do love myself. In the right manner.
He was born over two decades ago, whose birthday went by last month.
He’s been through a lot, and surely there is much more to come.
He didn’t always like what he looked in the mirror each day he got up
But with trying and time, he learned to love and embrace it.
He might have a name after being born, but he goes by what seems more fitting.
The Nameless One.
In my so far brief existence, I’ve come to realize my best friend had to be myself. While I have people in my life everywhere, I’m yet to be that person whose presence (or absence) is acknowledged. Also I don’t get into these terminologies and classification of these various titles, as seldom they make sense (to me at least).