The Illusion of Hope and the Fear of True Joy .
There is a peculiar loneliness in believing tomorrow will finally make sense, and fear of what that 'joy' could feel like.
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I just want one person I can rely on, one person who takes the time to understand me. But I always find myself entangled in the games that this existence plays; festering in a formless void wondering where it all leads.
I hope to carve away whatever human sense my mind feels so that I may find rest in the deepest parts of my soul.
Safe in the withered walls of my broken heart
I’ve been staring at the moon for hours, I’m starting to think she’s staring back.
The moon is so beautiful, it’s so hard to even capture her in a picture.
This is what they mean by some pictures can never capture the true emotions.
I sometimes wonder if I’m shouting into an empty space, where no one is listening. Then I remember there’s always someone listening and I find peace in that.