I wonder if ignorance truly is bliss or if I must forfeit who I really am to satisfy the unquenchable hunger everyone has before I know the true meaning of happiness. Is there a possibility that all my fighting has been for naught? Yes, that is one possibility but more often than I've realized, life has a purpose, whether it be known or not. I lie awake at night, pondering life's many questions, imagining the shadows on the ceiling to be my hands, my fingers, my arms floating above my body, a will all their own. But I know I'm not invisible and I know I am intact, which brings me back into my tedious life, eyes wide shut and breathing shallow.
'Your eyes see into the depths of my morbid soul; you speak and how I tremble at your eloquent words though I heard not what you said. Angel, you hide the truth from me but I revel in the mysticism you shine on me every day on my path toward the burning righteousness I shall never achieve.'
There's nothing wrong with me...there's just something wrong with everyone else.