The night is comforting. But it's only at night that treacherous thoughts bloom like flowers in my mind. It's only when the stars come out to play that I feel lost in a world I've grown to dislike. People think I blame my insomnia and fucked up body clock for this disinclination for sleep. But really, I blame my troubled thoughts for keeping me restless.
I've never enjoyed silence. I hate the feeling of noiselessness where I am all alone in my own mind. Nasty thoughts rampage around in my skull like bumper cars and it’s uncomfortable. I get thrown into this ring of thoughts and every passenger in every car ridicules me.
It's sadistic, in a way, because these passengers are merely figments of my imagination, yet they are out of my control. It's tragic too, that I feel like I've just fallen from a tightrope, while Insanity anticipatingly waits for my arrival at the bottom. What makes the whole fucking thing cruel is the fact that Insanity and I are a million kilometres away, but every second I fall, I plunge further and faster towards madness.
I'm keeping my spirits up because that's just how I'm built. Friends, if you ever feel the way I do, remember this. It doesn't matter how depressing it gets when your only friends are the stars, because I always believe the darkest nights produce the brightest stars.
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