Isolation

2 a.m. I am writing just because I've nothing to say. My head aches. I don't ponder upon anything, there's no insight, no contribution, no beauty, no talent. I write now just cause I feel I have too, just cause I want to. I wonder how many times have I done this in my whole life, just do what I feel like doing, no worries... Not many. Maybe none. It's two o'clock and there are no lullabies echoing in my head yet, and for the first time I don't daydream about some other place that would be me for a while, I don't runaway, no imaginary time lulls me to sleep. I feel empty, though so filled up with screams and regrets and ressentment. Strange feelings. All melt, mixed up, confusing. This heavy void, this sudden faint, this shadow in the mirror, these paper cups floating all around, firmly carved on the ground. How many speeling mistakes have I made so far? No idea. 2 a.m. I remmember I read something about a girl in a prison today, it annoyed me. I put myself into her position and felt hate growing inside me, expanding me in dark purple bubbles that explode, that destroy. I remmember I made some plans today, I don't know if I achieved any of those goals. I remmember now some day I was holding a child near the sea with my eyes closed... I remmember the taste of that sunset... I cry. Beauty makes us forget and dream again. It makes us believe we can build something, change something, do something about everything! And we can. But we never do. I'll go to sleep now. What will I be doing tomorrow? Will I watch the news? Will I be on the news? Will I make any difference? Will I care? My future is my past now, coming bursting throught the walls again, invading me, stripping me so agressively! The person I am comes to me, comes to the mirror to look throught me, I am so afraid of her, I am so ashamed of her. Will time make any difference? Will these eyes smile again? Isolation seems to be the way. Isolation seems worthy. Never fell in love with myself.