Should I write about a new insight gained tonight? Should I write about some new big breakthrough that happened on stage? Should I write about the push through a struggle to overcome and excel? Or should I write about the truth? About despondency?
I’d rather talk in riddles and metaphors that hide the true feelings inside. I’d rather wield a pen such that my thoughts became so jumbled that I could have a bit of peace in their confusion. Unfortunately, everything clicks neatly together like a jigsaw puzzle but with no scenery to behold.
What about the truth of a black hole that fills my heart? Would that be interesting enough to satiate one’s curiosity? I think it would be rather boring and mundane but at least truthful. How there is a void that seeks and longingly desires, no, absolutely craves validation. That without it, it looks in the mirror and seeing its blackness reflected back stares waiting for something to emerge out of that hole, knowing full well nothing can.
Or that in the event it does receive validation, it gobbles it up before it can even process it. Erasing the validation beneath its dark interior as though it was never there at all. How can the insatiable be satisfied? It is a futile task. So it sits there, waiting. Hoping for one day when something brave, something strong. . .something beautiful, emerges from its odious core. All the while knowing full well, that nothing ever will.