For as long as I can remember, I have felt more mature than my age. I have always had more of an understanding on things that other people never take notice of. I notice all of the fine details in everything. Perhaps this is why I so often prefer the solitude of my own mind. I am the only person who seems to understand me. If that ain’t lonely, then I don’t know what is. It’s funny. We’re always wishing for something more. Something “better”. But what if there is no “better”? What if this is all there is? Its striking, then, how we can be so incredibly happy in this world we yet call hell. This world, so small, so insignificant. This world that is a mote of dust, only visible when making its passage through a serene beacon of sunlight, more often shrouded in a maddening darkness. How then are we not insignificant? A proper, maybe necessary question. My answer? Because our insignificant world is just a vessel. A place for life, laughter and love, to flourish alongside death, betrayal and despair. But without all of these things, not only the positives but the counterparts as well, we would not truly alive would we? For there can be no light without darkness. And each one of our souls burn brighter than all the galaxies through the dark infinity of time.