Perhaps insecurities are the hungriest entities that have ever existed in this world. For it will not let you sleep in peace-- it will keep on consuming you with no end as if it had felt nothing but starvation and will continue to feel so because it is, solely, an endless rumbling of ones inability to achieve what other's had fulfilled through their perseverance-- contrary, is the farming of own feed, a food planted and carefully cultivated by the hand itself. Have we, humans, not realized it yet? We create our own hunger, realistically and in a man-made manner. And whatever kind of hunger that is if not dealt with the right feed or an attempt at least, will continue to consume our inner serene and satisfaction only to be left with a bitter emptiness. An acidity and a sourness to the stomach and soul.
An excerpt from my new writing that I really like which I will submit somewhere, hopefully. stay tuned I guess? ^^