My insomnia's back. I flip and flop in my bed all night and I know that talking about how I feel or writing something down will make me feel better but what's the point of feeling 'better' when I'll still feel nothing at all. It was better when I was unable to accept it. Unable to accept that this was all there was, desperately searching for more. When I felt so much anguish that my mouth would refuse to pause for breath. They say that we Pakistanis have been desensitized but so many of my friends still cry while my eyes refuse to shed a single tear.
I wish to be able to describe this period of my life as a short interlude in my search for the profound. An island in my voyage to nowhere in particular because I know that I should keep voyaging.
