• the_nerd_girl 6w

    A seeker she was. A fault she felt. Seeking has always brought her sorrow, dissapointment, angst and grief. Yet, she never ceased seeking and she always wonders why. Maybe because they said seeking gives u a purpose in life and what is a life without a purpose. Maybe she has been seeking the wrong thing all these while. Sometimes the path is so dark and misty that she doesn't even know what she is seeking. But then again she is desparate to fill up that void that has been growing inside her since one fine day when she let a little demon win over her. The price for the loss was petty for others but for her it was like a treasure of lifetime. But does she care anymore? Maybe yes, maybe no. Maybe this is the answer she is seeking. Maybe she is searching her home she long abandoned, maybe she is seeking her people or maybe just a listening ear. Her fingers bleed and so does her feet. She tries to breathe but the more she tries, the more she chokes. The more she tries to fight, the more she tangles herself in the labrynth of nothingness, in the labrynth of void. She says she longs to wake up for something she adores and looks forward to. She tells me with such dreamy eyes that i fear, i fear that i will shatter her dream if i even touch her. She knows that she will not be at peace until she finds what she seeks. Who knows if she will calm down after that. So she walks on the path laid out in front of her complaining but never looking back.
    When the war waged by her heart reaches its peak. She cluthces her arms tight around herslef and looks at the horizon longingly. What she longs for she cannot tell. The sky and the sea do their magic and she lets them connect to her soul losing herself in their vastness. She bares her soul to them and lets the fine music that lingers in the air to soothe her. And she falls asleep to the lullaby that they sing. Losing herself in dreams that are too fragile but beautiful, beautiful enough to give her strength to open her eyes once again to a new dawn, to a new morning maybe not to live sometimes but to survive, To play her part in the play of life.

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    The seeker

    Her fingers bleed and so does her feet. She tries to breathe but the more she tries, the more she chokes. The more she tries to fight, the more she tangles herself in the labrynth of nothingness, in the labrynth of void.
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