Those that live to impress others who couldn’t care less. The cycle that never ends. It’s a way of life so many suffer from because they think it gives them meaning- they think it makes them come alive in the eyes of those around them- but those eyes are long dead- as dead as the sky and deader than that which was once innocence now reduced to gray. Gray days and faces- desperate, longing faces so eager to be rescued from being alone, but little do they know the only way they’ll find themselves is by leaving it all behind and seeking silence. In the quiet hours when the world stops spinning and the rain hits your window and the ghosts of the life you once knew play among the shadows, you’ll see things others never will. As the air in your lungs runs dry and the room begins to spin around you, you’ll know everything that was once out of reach, and even though it will hurt- even though the blade will go deep- you’ll shine so bright. Among the dim stars that litter the streets, you’ll burn in ways that will make them quake. So keep burning. It’ll hurt, and it’ll sting, but what’s the alternative? To become like them? To embrace the emptiness and give in? Maybe you will anyway. Maybe you’ll do it without even realising until the day comes when you look in the mirror and see no one looking back. Will you put your faith in the oceans and the breeze? Will you step into the mirror? Will you search for a doorway made of light that sings to you in a voice no one else can hear?