Well.
There's not much to tell.
Not much in this dismal life.
That I've tried to give meaning with shallow, superficial things.
Money.
Clothes.
Jewels.
They all mean nothing.
So I write.
Write to tell my story.
Write to let some of my suffering out.
They've tried to silence me.
Insisiting that I have enough in my life; so I sould be happy.
Right?
There's something missing.
And there is no worse feeling,
than not knowing what it is.
-Alsana