She plunges into the abyss. She likes it there. She likes tormenting herself with questions that have no answers. She likes the uncertainty of it all. Because if she really knew, she would suffer.
People change. People never rest. She illudes herself that she is the narrator of her own story, whereas, in fact, she is the mere spectator.
She stuffs herself with sweet lies to survive, to live a little longer. She craves control.
She lets the pain in, for love. She feels, she breaths, she is everywhere and nowhere. She is bliss and darkness.
The abyss is her home and her comfort. Her everything. Her struggle and her truth.
But not all is darkness. Not all is lost. The beauty of it is life itself.
Nothing is more precious than the magnificence of light, even in the darkest of times.






