The ink of Doubt

Maybe the sun doesn't shine on the other side, maybe it's the moon that does (even stronger, I guess). Maybe it's not words that you need but the impact of silence on your soul and heart to waken you. Maybe it's not books or novels or biographies or memoirs that your eyes want to read, maybe it's the feelings they carry and the lessons they conceal. Maybe it's the weakness that had held you back all this time, not the times that you thought were strong and could carry mountains on your shoulders. Maybe you need the waves of summer not the rains of winter, the dawn of spring not the dusk of autumn. Maybe your words were all out in the wrong places and it's taking you forever now to right what went wrong and put every word in its right place, time and to the right person. Maybe all what a mother said once was right; slow down, take it easy, stop overthinking, it will kill you. Maybe you need more dreams in sleep than dreams in waking. Maybe it's the waking that hurts not the staying awake. Maybe, just maybe, you could kill every if only you have said inside and out, because it's never about that. Maybe you need a shoulder. Maybe you need a please-don't-let-the-world-get-to-you hug. Maybe you need words. Maybe you need silence. Maybe you need love. Or comfort. Or a prayer. Or a bit of faith. Maybe all of this is just you inside of me, or me inside of you. Maybe it's your love that did this. Or hatred or non-love or whatever you'd call it. Or maybe it's everything and it's nothing.
Maybe I just don't know. I don't.


Written here. Written now. Written for you and written for me, written for everyone who feels like this or will or has felt like this even once in their lifetime. May it never happen again.