@thaihungtran was here invading her hurhur :)

Does anyone else have parents who talk so loud that you don’t know whether or not they are arguing or if they are just having regular conversation?

Or is it just mine…

(via ummmmdana)

It’s a fallacious attempt to escape from whatever I was doing before.
If only you knew what I think of as my head hits the pillow.
Not of candy canes or rainbows.
But of my future.
And it’s this ugly painting of what I would never like to see.
Of loneliness and isolation and failure.
Of letting others down, while others succeed.
Of what I’ll never be, or could never see
All in a vain attempt of erasure that only fails to work because it comes back.
Again, and again, and again..

It’s like another person takes over my thoughts at night.
They become so profound and everything intrigues me.
So I can’t help but wonder if this somehow relates to whatever is responsible for my dreams.
Because there is no way my conscious self could come up with those concepts.
Everything that happens in my mind always creates awe and wonder to my actual self.
One will never understand the mystical forces of the night.
Or maybe it’s just my lack of sleep that is leading to this.
I’m probably going crazy.
That is one thing that’s for sure.
It’s 4 o’clock and I should be sleeping.
Yeah, that is one thing I know for sure.

She always told me, “You will get what you pray for.” But how am I supposed to know what I want? Who am I to be asking for more when others have less? Why should a person like me deserve something when I have done so little? So I don’t ask for much, but when I do…. I’m never sure, and rhetorical questions to the same higher power aren’t going to get me answers.

It’s those four o’clock monsters that always kill you.
The ones that drift in between a state of consciousness and being asleep.
Those thoughts you’re not even sure of because they are a result of a tired body and a restless mind.
They sit in your head while your body sways every which way.
And your heart sings sad, lonely tunes.

I used to think that my heating vent hated me.
Everytime I would come sit by it, the heat would turn off.
But then I learned that the heat took away my sense of time.
I wouldn’t even notice I was laying by the vent for minutes on end,
Then it would stop.
And I would be on my way again.