Friday, November 7, 2014

Quiet Desperation

Searching.
Always searching.

It seems something is missing and it's right there at the tip of my fingers but it keeps slipping, slipping away.
My fingers must covered in butter because I can't hold on to anything. It. Whatever is missing.

Curiosity. Curious about everything. Interesting. Everything is so damn interesting.

Why can't I find what I'm searching for?
Why can't I figure out what I'm missing?

Everyday the desperation gets stronger and stronger.
Running. Barreling through me like a stampede. Crashing into the deep recesses of my mind. Tearing apart everything I do. Everything I think.

How can I stop it from ripping me apart from the inside out?

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