It Was A Lonely Night

she sits in front of her computer, fingers bent, waiting for words to flow from her heart to the tip of her fingers and to the screen of her computer. but then she leans back into her seat, she frowns, sighs, convinced that she is unable to convey her feelings through mere words alone. she decides to open a new webpage, making herself vulnerable, and entering the unknown. just one look at it, she feels whatever little strength she has left slowly seeping out from her and she turns away, looking out of the window, another sigh escaping from her dry, chapped lips.

she has so many questions, and yet she doesn't know where to start. she has so little answers, and at the very same time she knows she can't get anymore. these questions, answers, grey areas, blurred boundaries, the distorted reality... can she handle them?

elusion. she wants to escape from reality. and yet... delusions. an erroneous belief - that she can leave it all behind. you see how a simple manipulation of a word can make everything much more abstruse. she sees it too, and yet,

she's waiting. she's impatient but she waits, heightened awareness of the noise around her or rather lack of it aggravates her pain. the tension she's feeling exacerbates, and she squeezes her eyes shut, mustering up all that she's got to make everything dissolve into the darkness.

the buzzing of her phone then snaps her back to reality. reality, you ask. what is reality? what is real? what is not? she waits for you to answer her, but even you, are unable to throw light upon these feelings.

and so maybe its best for her to forsake her unbalanced state of affections and abandon her emotions for her own good.