When I think about exactly what I write here, it all comes down to a conspicuous absence of a story. So it’s just a page full of the rants of a bleeding heart. Just musings about what would and could be but never was. It comes down to an emphasized sense of melancholy in my being. A sincere cry for help that few react to. A desperate account of frustrations many relate to but lack the courage to voice. A voice for my overthinking soul and a heart that cares more that it lets you see. It’s an attempt to have a positive outlook of life. A struggling candle flame that sometimes dims when it’s needed but never stops rekindling. A search for gills and wings to fly.
So let’s feel and fly.