Self-Made Hypocrite
A level of awareness that allows your emotions to take form of physical pain fills the void of emptiness. It’s an excruciating feeling. Suppressing reality with illusions only welcomes the pain to multiply; linearly, then exponentially. Like a wave building up to its peak, you anticipate the moment it curbs to crash down with the inevitable sound of destruction. You aspire to be the free bird passing over it, traveling at a straight, steady pace, with control of its wings to take it anywhere it wishes. But you’re stuck on the loop of the waves. They are magnetic to the frequencies of your soul, entangled into vibrations of sorrow. A hidden endless melancholy. You appear shallow because you’re afraid to acknowledge the very depth you are made of; it is too dark. Why would you expose such a cruel thing? The lack of understanding that others already withhold for you will only increase. Sometimes you wish the wave trapped you forever. You think you must accept it as your destiny, as you come up with absurd possibilities for its potential. What if it takes me to another world, a portal unknown? Will I then finally feel something meaningful? Will I experience the thrill and excitement I crave? I’ll find out eventually.
