Am I writing for you or me? If it's for you, I might as well stop. Here's the thing, if I try to sound beautiful and insightful, I'll be selling you a lie. But if I take a long look at my dirty soul, and call it like I see it, there could be something there.
The trail I've been leaving is a chase for happiness. Almost has been the theme of my life. I've craved to arrive, always a step from heaven when Babel falls.
It's life, there is no there. The faster I run, the faster the horizon runs away. I don't know how to be peaceful. I've been a restless soul my whole life. I've scoured pages and videos for a cure. At times, I've wished to be someone else. I've felt broken and dysfunctional, spastic and childish.
I've been an alien to myself for most of my life. A soul within me longs for home, and I don't know if I'll make it.
This is damn bleak. But that is what I am today. It rains in the soul too. It's true for me right now. But, behind the clouds, the sun still shines.