Candle lit dim room, pen and paper. Scribbling thoughts. Scattered. As your insides settle, mind rests in the quiet still of night. So alone, you cannot hear a single howl of wind. So alone, your heart sighs with relief – no one to possess it, no one to fantasize. So alone, the wavering flames are like dead souls yearning for another life. So alone, your thoughts attack your mind like a parasite. Unrepressed, they escape your skull’s crevices to haunt you. So alone, you observe the human race from a distance. How silly and ignorant social interactions can be. You detach from the chaos. You find your own quiet. An artificial stillness. You pass through this earth, only to leave it.