11.50

I deny myself sleep in the hopes that in these moments, something will happen.

I stand alone in a mishmash of words seemingly meaningless. Only few have dared to find me and extricate me from this mess that I currently revel in, and so far no one has succeeded. I don't mind, anyway, it's in this glorious entropy that sometimes i find fleeting solace. But escape seems such a world away and the "it" doesn't make sense when you're in a world that doesn't even recognize you as its own.

I'm letting myself slip from the pre-ordained notion of order and letting my fingers do the typing.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock moves in a melancholy fashion, unaware of the seconds that it ticks away and how those seconds may mean forever for some and just a blink for another right now.

15 people online and I'm silent.

Call me incoherent in this last time of the day and/or night and I'll call you blind to sheer lunacy. No, I'm not drunk either. It's just sometimes I just have to write without any reason or purpose; free from the guidelines of proper writing and not giving a damn about an audience. Simply because I'm my own audience; my selfishness getting the better of me again.

Or maybe I'll just get someone to talk to.

Maybe I'll allow myself sleep, in a few moments.