As I walk across the halls of the night I walk to a new dawn. I realize the real apathy in people and the worst things come to life only when they get ready for the day yet to come. The night is forgiving and really honest in terms of solving your solitude. It’s the meeting people the next day that ruins our nights. The days we survive are not without a cost. It feels emptiness in the morning. Something chafing away each day a dawn at a time. The real question becomes if to go on sit quietly and wonder how life actually turned out despite our sincerest efforts to keep it as a life. It’s no longer a living but a series of things we keep doing every day in the exact same way and hope for a better result.
There’s no end to this and there never will be, as soon as we are born we embark on a journey towards our inevitable demise and squander our time in-between for petty pursuits which makes it even worse to carry on. If madness truly existed its in the life of a person taking comfort in the joy of a routine or the serenity of repetition.