When you cannot feel it,
you cannot feel it.
When you cannot see it,
you cannot see it.
Everything looks the same.
And no matter what you read or see,
or how you try to make it make sense,
Even when you know it should make sense,
You are everything you dream about and everything you hope for. You are, yourself, an embodiment of all that you pray for and everything that you fantasize about. In every thought, every dream, and every word spoken by you, you are stepping past yourself as you wander in search of that which you are. Stop searching.
We become addicted to our sadness because it makes us feel alive in a world where we feel dead inside.Feeling anything is better than feeling nothing.
We become addicted to our sadness because pain is beautiful.
There is no pain without passion and no heartbreak without love.
Our shared pain connects us and our compassion holds us together.
There is a bizarrely familiar and anesthetizing comfort lurking deep inside the sadness and discomfort of a wounded soul; that begs the heart to surrender to its paralyzing grip. The life-piercing pick of maddening malevolence, strums the broken strings of a tattered heart as consciousness begins to evanesce and slip.
I am grateful for darkness; it really helps me appreciate the light. I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like if I could never open them again. I consider how it might feel to have once had the vision to view all of the majestic beauty in the world and then suddenly be struck blind.