∴ You know, often times I relish in ignorance, to a degree. I gather into myself, and become stationary in the comfort of self-lies. Like with nature, bark starts to form around me, and I solidify. But every once in a while, something hits you, and you get to stretch, and come back to life.
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∴ Light is good. It allows us to see, and provides us with warmth. The hearth, the fire, the sun. . . they are all essential to life.
Still, though. . . sometimes, the light becomes too much. We see excessively, the warmth gets strangling, and we just yearn. . . for some dark, and solitude.
∴ My brain is just so busy. I’m inattentive; I’m a daydreamer: the space cadet kind.
Hannah Gadsby
∴ They pick us up, when we fall down. And if they can’t pick us up, they lie down for a while and listen. . .
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∴ And when our eyes meet they burn, like the blood red sky. . . and the fire, it washes over the psyche, and scorches the boundaries that would see it extinguished.
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∴ Everyone’s Heaven is different. . . for some, it is the city, brimming with life. The concrete flows through their veins like blood, and the lights echo in their words. For others, it is the wilds. The mountains, alone and uncaring at their peaks, bothered only by weathers most furious. The forests, bursting with life, too, but of a different kind.
I don’t know what my Heaven is. But if I am to choose a place to rest for now, I shall choose this old, run down house at the end of the road.
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∴ ∴ What are the chances you’d ever meet someone like that? Someone you could love so intricately and encompassing, someone…
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∴ Her people had been friendly for days, now. Her, first and foremost, had always worn a smile, and brought offerings. It was with astonishment that he caught her sight, knife in hand and ready to strike. Thankfully, his reflexes pushed the shield up. . .
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∴ I’m hearing it all, I’m hearing it in my head
Whisperin, they’re whispering again
Hearing it all, they see me as a threat
Pushing me, keep pushing to the edge
