Sometimes the journey is far too long, mostly far too hard, but some of us reach that destination we seek; and when we do, we hope that we are not far too tired to enjoy it.
The world is a sad dark place, the bright blue places are few and far apart, and sometimes find these bright places; we find them, share them, and all together watch them fade away.
My story has begun and no one is there to speak the words; maybe if I scream, my whisper will be heard. Not every word is for everyone to understand, but those that feel the futility will see the image.
Dust particles sparkled in the sunlight like daytime stars, and these are not the stars which hold our dreams; perhaps wishing on these swirling points of light would be insane, but maybe not as much as ours lives.
It is not the one who masters the writing of the words, who holds the power; but the one who understands their meaning, and has the resources to exploit them.
A person who aids many people, will eventually need time to replenish; or else, when that person is depleted, those who were aided will be depleted as well.
Not everyone wants to be liked, because that only means you can tolerate them; many people want and deserve respect, and that is something far more important than tolerance.