Identity
Nights scare me.
Not just their darkness but their silence too.
Silence. Loud and deafening.
It forces you to contemplate and spend time with yourself.
But I try my best not to.
Because I don’t know what’s within me.
And I’m scared of the unknown.
I’m scared to get to the heart of my own mind.
So when I can’t sleep at night, I write.
When I’m all alone, I write.
When I’m lonely, I write.
Not because I can but because I have to.
I write and write and write.
And suddenly these incoherent jumble of words in my mind
Turn into pieces of puzzle that actually fit.
And by the end of the day, I know myself a little bit more.