existing in agony

It's Simple, Child - Matthew Mole

slowly lost count on how many nights spent alone, longing for the moon. they say that to live is the rarest thing in the world, to her, there was always a missing piece to her puzzle, no way out of this endless labyrinth, let alone the dead end, no absolute clues, let alone an answer. sometimes, at night, her mind wanders, thinking maybe solitude is not a bliss after all, an agony. a silence, an empty voice. lack of everything. search for places that have people, still alone, vacancy, the void grows. every day, it feels larger, silence gets louder, echo of it lengthens, the space in which there is no one gets bigger day by day. the creak of old wood stretches outwards, at the end of it all, it feels like an empty stadium, an arena filled with no one in the chairs. and life is just drained from it.

09. november 2018