Prose that may be too bland or too blue;
Random stories that may or may not be true;
All penned by Alice in her times of loneliness;
They shall aid the mind and heart of the restless.
Oops! Ang larawang ito ay hindi sumusunod sa aming mga alituntunin sa nilalaman. Upang magpatuloy sa pag-publish, subukan itong alisin o mag-upload ng bago.
Before I go to sleep, I am devoured by dark, depressing thoughts. My uncertainties. My what-ifs. My doubts. My fears. They all cuddle me and sing to me every night. I long for the days when I was younger, and I could easily sleep one second after I closed my eyes. Back when I dreamt of unicorns and soft pink pillows, not of social humiliation and burning sins.
I guess not being able to sleep is part of growing up. I guess this dark cloud that envelops our once-cornflower skies is part of being jaded. As we age more, I wonder how much darker things will get.
