I just know

I forcefully keep my eyes close, but that doesn't stop the mayhem inside my head. My thoughts trying to find a way to make sense to me. In response, I clutch my head and press myself against the comfort of the blanket. It works for me. It works as a wall between me and reality. My safe cocoon. Everything going on around me is too messy for my liking. I restore balance, I create order to overshadow the chaos inside. Not that it helps me much. Bringing my hand out of the blanket, in foreign territory, I feel chills. Chills of the winter. I release a sigh. The cold makes me think about winter. Funny season, everything around you feels cold and dead. Or maybe it's just me. The silence around me brings less comfort and more clarity. The absence of everything around me makes me participate in my own thought process. Such an alien cycle. Whether you like it or not, it keeps tumbling. Normally, I simply sit back and listen to things that come to mind. I can't even assert my supremacy, as they always are out of my reach. My control. I willfully cherish life, while a big part of me wonders, is that it? 

I sit alone. Waiting for something. Waiting to feel things that make me feel familiar. That doesn't make me insecure for every breath that I take. I am longing to feel life. It's dark outside. Still, a couple of hours before the sun dispels darkness and brings light to the world. Such a fierce thing yet can blossom the delicate life. I wonder if he realizes what is occurring to the existence that he helps to survive. He shares the warmth and leaves a dark tan behind, as a reminder. A beautiful transaction. We don't know what we lost, nor we are conscious of what we gained. The foolish grin on our faces making us look as clueless as we are. I keep thinking about it. It makes me feel nice.