The sharp taps of the clock await my silence to break free from my wistful whisper—to never hear it while my eyes are shot open, to find my nerve and trigger it—as the sadness carefully passes through my system. Too far gone to care, leaving me paralyzed in a cold, soft, sinking bed.
It was a momentary piece where my head had the sensation of being stroked like piano keys, where a soft yet disturbing melody filled the place, and I closed my eyes, lulling me to my deep slumber.
There’s that unknown peace where a deep slumber could lead to an eternal doom—where the past, the present, and the future collide together, where everything exists together, whether in a beautiful song that’s pieced together, or loneliness held in thousands of agonies.
One thing is for sure, I have the guts to love the doomsday, and all things are possible because it is the end of May.
I haven’t been writing for months already. Maybe because I use my time to stuff my soul with the tasks in my work. Lately, I have not been feeling well. I know in my soul, there is an itch of hopelessness and anxiety. But I’m holding myself together.
For myself today, and for myself in the future.
I was able to come back into writing because of this song: Staying - Lizzy McAlpine
