Longing

It's 6:10am. I wish to sleep, but I could not because the words keep calling me. These words that spill from my heart, from my fingertips. What a world so tangled in itself, a world so cruelly cold. I think what I feel is loneliness, it is so comforting sometimes. Loneliness is comforting, because of the cry for a touch. Maybe it is because everyone who has lived has felt it before, it connects us. My friend at one point told me, that he sees my loneliness. I was startled, because I never thought I felt lonely, that hollow feeling of needing another soul to hold on to. The only time I feel lonely is when I see the actual horror and vividly gory reality of life. It frightens me to the core of my being, yet I find myself enamored by it. In love, with the edgy and at times evil. I think it is because of my experiences, the things that I've seen or felt. I think with time, the true self, that has been encapsulated in glass or frozen solid, begins to crack and finally emerge from their deep slumber. For me, I think I was hurt a long time ago, and now I think I'm finally starting to see him, whatever or whoever was hurt, and he's starting to become real. Maybe I am just scared of who he will be, or what he will do. If he is worse than me. I guess we will see, and maybe this longing will finally be quenched, for eternity.