Endless

i dont think this is deserving of a description.

As the speckled night sky filled with vibrant mystery swallows me up my heart aches for knowledge. My brain is somehow my worst enemy and my best friend at such a midnight hour. When all else sleeps my thoughts wake and torment my very soul. They crave answers. I like to think I'm something special, that nobody else sees the stars the way I do. For a moment I hold myself high, believing that I'm capable of things bigger than myself, but reality pushes me to the ground.I'm one of seven billion, someone else is bound to be sitting and staring at the same few constellations  as I do now.I'm fallen;confused; and drowning in each ink pressed syllable on the paper I scribble. I find myself engrossed by wonder and scared of my endless ideas and questions. One thought only provokes another. They say that your lowest moments produce your best works of art. They say your creativity is your escape to your sorrowful and pained heart. I only remain frustrated. My brain could speak forever, it has the voice of a billion souls, never am I satisfied with the limited characters allowed in front of me. Things are unfair, the world is ugly. As the endless swirling ideas bounce of the walls of my skull and reflect deep into my thin-walled heart, one question is colorful in such a black and white world. Is it me or this universe? Who is faulty and who is wrong?My eyes fog and flood with tears, slowly the flood trickles down my sensitive cheeks stinging my face with anxiety and helplessness. I yell and nobody hears, and even if they did, not one of these seven billion would understand.

Reviews

[Sharon L.H. Kelly]

One of those seven billion understands, Linddsaay. Very nice write.

[linddsaay]

thank you very much! I appreciate it.