It’s cold. The blanket doesn’t do its job, I shiver a bit but I’m okay. What time is it? What does it matter? The walls that surround me have stories of their own, they listen to people. It’s good that they don’t speak, imagine the horrors we’d face if they did.
Silence is serene. So you’d think.
The pervasiveness of darkness that creeps in is unfathomable. Sometimes darkness isn’t the absence of light; it’s the state of being oblivious to it. I spread my legs wide and slump down against the wall, a strange feeling of suffocation oddly puts me at ease as I stare aimlessly into nothingness. What is this place? I remain seated. Breathless, still breathing.
There’s a riot inside my head. A battle between reason and hypocrisy instigates a doubt within, making me question my emotions and morality. Isn’t it funny? we think we know people, even the ones closest to us. It’s funnier when we tell people they know us, yet we go to bed with secrets buried deep within.
We’re responsible, aren’t we? But we’d never admit. Pride is a wretched thing. Humanity is a wretched thing. Life isn’t a bitch, we are and guilt is unbearable. Before you blame your god, remember: even he couldn’t create a world without consequences. If he existed, he’d be as helpless as we are.
We always long for an escape not a solution.
If there’s anything that needs revival in this world, it’s not people. It’s hope.