I’m getting really tired of chasing fresh air. All of this running around, grasping at nothing I can feel with my cold fingers. I know I will find a sense of accomplishment when I finally snatch what it is I want, but I also know the feeling of emptiness coming home again soon after. That warm and bubbly sense of pleasure that swells up in my heart only lasts until the next beat. Then it’s flushed out. Every large achievement I conquer, a bigger one looms overhead. Casting its crooked shadow on my candle flames.
I’m getting tired.
But I hate going to sleep.