The rain smashes against the glass, driving like the thoughts smashing around my head. The wind howls, jeering at my insomnia. I write in the shadows, the shadows in absence of light; the shadows of thoughts that dart around my head. I feel alone, but not lonely. Here in the dark I am myself, able to think, reflect, write.
The fan spins on, oddly this is a reflection of me. It has a purpose, that it may or may not be achieving, but it revolves, resilient, pushing forward, accomplishing what it may.
Where am I? Where am I going? I don't think I even want to know the answers, it would ruin the fun.
"Beneath the rule of men entirely great, the pen is mightier even than the sword."
-Zeitgeist
-Zeitgeist
2 comments:
you have put your state finely in words. Don't we all go through thi state sometimes.
Why yes i believe we do, it almost seems as if e=we all have these moments were we truly feel the power of existentialism and its effect on self-perception and world view
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