My self, as a whole, is not ready to affront what its going to become. My deepest dreams are not a list of steps for me to read and follow, they write themselves as I breath the ink. I might erase some parts sometimes, or at least try to, but the thing about understanding oneself is: you cannot feel fulfilled until you're done with living. And I don't feel like I'm living.
Not as long as I can only talk to myself in a bustle.
If it comes to a bright side of staying awake, I must say it feels warm being the only voice that can sometimes make me smile in absolute darkness. I don't know if I can fully trust in me, but I'm willing to try every night.
Even so, I beg you for another voice, a silent one, who can bring me peace and a colorful dream at night. Don't get me wrong, I already have beautiful dreams at sunlight, shiny blue dreams that scare and amaze me.
Please. Let me hear another voice, let me fall in love with it; bring me a blessing and I swear I will give my heart to keep it burning.
- R.V.
