Another Untold Story.

I went to a strange place, feeling as if I've dreamt of it before. I had to have dreamt of it before; it felt so strangely familiar. Then I saw something so beautiful. And I took it in my hands, and suddenly there's a rush of happiness filling me in. But right after that, after the shortest infinity, I realized that it's all crushed. I didn't know where did I go wrong, I had no idea what happened. Maybe I held on too tightly for too long, maybe that little thing was a bit too fragile. Or maybe my hand was of poison and thorns. But it was too late then. All I had in my hands were dusts and very small pieces, what's left of it. So I went off again, finding another thing to hold, something that would be able to stay in my hands, be in my possession, without breaking them into pieces. Little did I know, on my way there, along the bumpy roads, I was crushing and destroying everything I was trying to hold on to or even touch. And as I'm telling you this, I've come to a realization, that I might be a monster. After all, what else would define me then?