bookworm-95

I am very afraid. Not of a person, or even an object. A feeling. Love. I'm terrified I'll never find what I so frequently read about, that is all fiction. And if I do; find it that is,  it will be taken as soon as I find it. It's not even as though I've really felt that strongly for anyone, that I've ever been hurt by love. It's just... there is so much that can go wrong, and when it does you can just slap a band-aid on the pain and return to everyday life. Physical pain doesn't scare me nearly as much as emotional pain does, because those wounds never just disappear, they are residual and forever leave a scar in their place. The pain is dull

I sit calmly outside. The clouds hover just in front of the moon, dimming its already limited light. The darkness nestles me in a warm embrace, my breath comes out softly barley alerting anything or anyone of my presence.  I bathe in the moons light as the clouds pass, showing there glowing companion. My mind drifts and soon arrives at trivial thoughts. What is darkness? Is it really evil, is it cloaked in mystery like it appears? If the dark is truly evil... is evil misunderstood? Because this darkness... my darkness... would ever do anything bad as the word evil suggests. Most humans easily become squeamish when the dark is brought up. A ta