Highway To Hell

“There are so many words in my heart, but when I look at people, I feel there is no word that can make them understand me; so I just stay silent.”

- Virginia Woolf, The Waves

“I am strangely tired, not from one or two things, but from everything. I am tired of what I felt or feel, of the things I love or hate to do, of breathing, of trying, and of fighting. But most of all, I am tired of what is called life and living.”

- Albert Camus, The Fall

After all, we are the walking manifestation of sin.

Negan, walking dead: dead city.

The truth is simple: we are all prisoners of our own perspective. Every life revolves around a single person, and everyone else exists somewhere in the background. Not because they are unimportant, but because the self has always been the center of its own universe.

Everyone claims to care. Everyone speaks of kindness, understanding, and helping others find their way through the dark. Yet when the moment arrives, compassion is often replaced by judgment. It is easier to tear someone apart than to understand them. Easier to bury them beneath assumptions than to ask a single question. The same people who speak of saving lives often become the reason a soul learns to suffer in silence.

The longest journeys are not measured in miles. They happen in silence, between sleepless nights and restless thoughts. Some return from those places unchanged. Others return carrying pieces of the darkness with them.