A man is lying in a bed thinking to himself, "What happened to me?"
He looked around wearily even though his eyes were closed.
Two or three, four or five pairs of black and white lingered around him.
"Who are they? Why are they here?" he asked himself.
One by one, they started to disappear until the man was left alone, laying in his bed.
"Where have they gone?" he thought to himself.
"How come it's only me in here?" he continued to asked.
He tried moving his feet, but they won't.
He tried lifting his arms, but they didn't.
"Which part of me can still move?" he asked. But none replied to his calls.
"When is this going to end?" he said to himself.
He felt like he was about to cry, but he noticed that he just laid there.
Breathless. Heartless. Mindless. Lifeless.
The man who laid in his bed stopped thinking. He realized there's nothing that can be done.
He can't move. He can't leave. No one else was there but himself.
He wanted answers. He needed clarity. He wished to know the reason for his loneliness.
But then again, no one was there to answer. No one was there to explain. No one knew the reason of his loneliness. No one else, but himself.
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