shades of crazy

The sky will never look the same again... what did it used to look like? Whenever I look at the sky it seems to be a blackish-orange color. I find it hard to believe it really is that color, even if it is wintertime. The world keeps spinning around in little circles and things never really change do they? Time and place, it's all the same. It's all here or there or everywhere. When light turns to darkness where does that leave us? Alone and scared? Maybe it would be best if you left me alone, and I left myself alone. Neither option is easy. Nothing is easy anymore. It's not even easy to lay in bed all day- these thoughts never stop flowing. I could write twenty four hours a day. It'd be nice if I could speak for even just one of those. The words and emotions and actions and fears and questions pound the inside of my skull, desperately seeking a little rift through which they might escape. They seldom find it. It's okay though, I feel like I'm saving for something. If I'm quiet for long enough I will one day find my voice. I am choking, it's hard to breathe. I want to be free from whatever has control on me. I suppose I should be grateful for this ability to write, I should be glad it hasn't been taken away tonight.