I was in a prison, but I was not a prisoner. We were looking for one another. You couldn’t find me when I was right in front of you. It broke my heart. It wasn’t your fault. They had told you I wasn’t really there after all - even though you couldn’t stop yourself from searching. How were you supposed to know I was important to you after all?
I remember the grey walls were bare of decor, the recreation area was littered with incomplete board games, and the lighting sparse and stark. We caught only glimpses of one another - or what we thought was each other - convincing enough to drive us forward. In the end the glimpses were illusions, tricks of the eye and the mind. This world was our reality and I was only a part of yours through your insistent desire to find me.
All of this was something I knew, even though I never found you either. Maybe it wasn’t just me who couldn’t see properly.