I was once asked to write a story about the intricacies of my world and my first response was to say that it's a type of cognitive dissonance. It is a crashing of two worlds - fantasy and reality - within the cacophony inside of me. It was looking right and seeing what was left; lifting my eyes to the sky to have it pour it sorrows onto me.

I told them that it was division. Wanting and needing against the best chance they could have. It was desire and survival; a mess of paint on cracked dry wall. It was the phantom touch of the last time you held me and it was the ghost of a smile in the pictures of us.

My world was one tune after another. Each varying in tone, touch and speed; a racing heart, a slow breath and a deafening scream. Inspiration clouded by the doubt of a self-deprecating voice in my head. Cancellation after cancellation under the dim lights to the sight of the midnight moon.

A soft lull in the background that reaches and coaxes and comforts.
You'll be okay, I promise. You'll be okay.
An unheard sigh that never escapes the lungs, softly shutting eyes and a crease in your forehead. Discordant notes in a piano.
No, please don't. Yes, you need to.
And there was nothing like spending hours staring at the vast ocean, releasing myself of it all.
Taking in the sins of others and breathing them out as my own.

Someone once asked me to tell them about my world and all I could see in my mind was the soft brown eyes of a soul in pain.