Thump…. Thump.... Thump…Thump. If only my heart could beat a little quieter, a little slower or maybe, just fucking maybe, stop altogether. Maybe, just maybe they wouldn’t hear me, with any luck, my footsteps would be gone, my existence washed away with the rain and any possible scent long flooded down the drain. I shook from both cold and shock, I couldn’t see anything and I was overwhelmingly glad of the subtle fact, ra...

Pain. It seems all my life I’ve dealt with one kind or another. Part of me wants to shut the louder half of me in a little box, somewhere…anywhere, until it's bursting at the seams. Maybe I hope it will kill itself off, polluting its own environment with its own filth, just like part of me always has. The other parts want to ignore it, try to stop it and beat it down, keep it down and destroy that one part, that deceitful...

Hope. Hope really was a wonderful thing; it could keep even the most browbeaten spirit up and running for hours, just to get to that warm golden glow at the end of the tunnel. Hope is a delicate balance of trust, persuasion of one’s self and pure, untainted faith. It really is a beautiful thing to see one hope for something; it was of the utmost purity how one flicker of light could do so much for one’s hope of a warm gol...