Isn't it a scary thought that the people who ask you how you are have absolutely no care about what you say?
They stare at you while you speak but looking into their eyes, you see a tiny shimmer of the blank mirrored vastness that is our own selfishness.
In one ear and out the other I see my inner thoughts pour and yet, I still dare to tell my stories.
I find sharing a piece of me is only for my own self gratification.
It seems as if those gratifying moments will be shared but released into an invisible cloud of memories that no one will ever have the pleasure of hearing about.
And that... is a scary thought.
