A Half-Cup of My Midnight Heart

I sit on top of the toilet, mind wandering to a place called nowhere. Toilet, I scoffed, only in my mind. My sacred peaceful place. Isn't that ironic? My peaceful place is not at some religious place, not even on someone's arm - but a place where people get rid of their bodily waste. I sighed.

'What if all of this turn up to be only such a waste of time? A waste of life? What if all this time, all I do is building a stairway to nowhere? What if, the future is as gray as it is right now?'

Then again, who can assure you that your dream is more than a pipe dream - an impossible, silly, childish, fictional, bullshit dream?

I don't understand how something so hopeful makes me feel so hopeless. I feel like a walking paradox. Those whispers of doubt are being played on repeat, by who I don't have the faintest idea.

'I wish I could meet you, and finally get to talk to your shadow.' That's what I would say.

Oh, jeez. I can feel it. I'm slowly losing my sanity. What would I say, you ask?

'Hey, nice to meet you. It'd be nice to knock the door first before you snuck into someone's mind, thank you. Anyway, now that you're here, are you there to keep me sane? And thank you for being there during my sleepless nights. I really appreciate the company.'

Now, now. I'm having an imaginary conversation with the demon hiding beneath the deepest part of my soul, rooted within me. Great.

Nevermind. Maybe we can chat over a cup of tea. Or coffee, if the night is long. Maybe then I will realize, a little doubt inside of you doesn't always harmful. Maybe, you need gravity so your balloons don't pop from the overpressure. Maybe, doubt is what helps you grow up. And maybe, some dreams, sadly, are not for everyone.