Words are tumbling around in my head again, half formed ideas torment me. they delight in taunting me, as though evading my grasp is a game that my own mind plays with its self.
the tangle tightens, strangling the spluttering blossoms of inspirations into nothingness... but I shall try and make some detached sense before all the light fades from them, and I am left in cold, abandoned darkness once again.

I envy those who are content to view things with simplicity, it is my own hell, for I see the complexity, in everything, yet am unable to understand, even a fraction of it.

everyone has a story, everyone has their own burdens and joys, their own loves and hatreds, everyone. yet I feel so isolated in my own mind... we can only imagine things from one point of view... yet... are our points of view so drastically different? in essence we are all very alike. we all are in ourselves, and in the end I wonder if that is what drives us apart. we cannot understand that, to another, it is US who is the 'other', not them.

here is where my musing shall end for now. another small piece added to a plethora of thoughts and ideas... idle sparks that tumble haphazardly from my mind.
I must now go, for the fog is rising.