The Tales Of Midnight 1.0

Pessimistic minds think alike, their train of thoughts aren’t quite lonesome as one would like to believe, rather disturbingly familiar to that of each other. One chooses to bask themselves behind the curtains of the night which often brings forth their truest identities, the one that’s hid all day presenting a convincingly charming smile before its hideous attire.

My mind has been the loyal keeper of thoughts that have joined the course of turbulence that reality couldn’t keep up with and now it’s exhausted, exhausted of having to survive with an emotional void despite portraying otherwise. Well most describe it as “life”, but I beg to differ. I beg to differ for I refuse to live with this reality. The reality they call mine.

Sometimes it’s termed narcissistic to share, a thought I could make no sense of to this day.
I pour out for it helps me exhale the toxic vapours burning me up inside, for one doesn’t have to take notice of it but can always allow the other to breathe however she pleases. Well, this is how I breathe.