The pale moonlight reflects on my bedroom window, it's milky glow spilling into the room. The cold air chilling my spine and caressing my hair.

It's so lonely and empty here, all I hear is suffering. Nothing but the sound of sadness echoing its same melancholy tunes, singing of its woes and troubles.

My mind is numb but the gates are holding back an army that are ready to fight for its stolen tears. Oh for I'm broken but I hold the pieces of me in my palms and try to stick them back together again. But my skins getting used to the bond that keeps it all together so, slowly, ever so slowly, it crumbles with each fix.

It's not all bad though, in between I get a moment of euphoria when everything is fine, everything is just perfect, when the sun kisses my skin and when the water is not so frightening but calming. When the tide stays out later and the sand cools. When happiness trails your skin and bones. Yet it's a haze that washes over me, a fuzz of reality and one I cannot comprehend, a superficial bliss.

And I think I'm okay with that, for now.

Maybe it's just pretending that everything is how I want it to be, this world that I've created for myself.

I precipitate my own failures and keep a weight of tenacious thoughts that cling to my conscious and my apathetic restraints are a facade to lose the bigger picture I do not wish to see.

I miss the warmth and feelings of security, one that the cold air cannot satisfy, it takes away my meaning and leaves me a cold being amongst the objects. So I lay here, burdened with the cold nights sky alone once more and watch the stars twinkle. The moon sailing the sky with its veil of silk. And every galaxy beyond watching earth tick. My problems seem so small amongst the vast expanse carrying us through time and space.

And I smile because for that one moment, everything that has ever happened, doesn't matter, not now.

The Burden of Self Repair...