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🎧 Meik Wiking - The Little Book of Hygge
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When I think about the world, I cannot help but think about my own loneliness, and this incessant feeling at the back of my mind, reminding me how small and insignificant I truly am. I feel as if though I am being pushed into a black hole, where an infinite darkness will consume my everything and transform me into utter nothingness. maybe this is what death feels like, I wouldn’t know. I hope I don’t get to know for sure until I am ready to go. truth be told, I have never been genuinely ready to go. sometimes, all I really wanted was to fall asleep for a very long time, until all of the pain, the hardship, the drowning sadness and meaninglessness have gone away for good. I think I will always be sad. I will always be damaged. there will always be a little part of me that is not going to be okay, even when everything seems to be just fine. maybe this is the little part of me that will always allow me to be a poet, a writer if I am being modest. maybe I just think too much. my mind is constantly taunting me, a non-stoppable force commissioned to destroy me, or to mess me up a little bit, at least.