Just this once, I want a picture perfect ending and a little episode of uninterrupted bliss, followed, if it has to end, by an easy fall and a quick recovery with a friend I haven't lost, simply added another layer to.

Just a few late night ramblings. The internet is such a melancholy place when you don't have anyone to talk to.

Sometimes, the words just won't come. They leave you dry, drifting listlessly on a blank page, the cursor staring at you menacingly until you feel nothing but dread at the thought of filling that void with your own thoughts. What do you have to say, anyway? A sloppily written poem about love, in all its wickedness? An epic romance between two people who will never come to exist outside the realms of your dreams? A letter, well composed and finely worded, reminding an old friend that maybe things could have been, would have been, could be—a letter you'll never send?

Why, then, do you bother at all?

Why does it hurt when the words won't flow, why does it frustrate you, as though the world itself was coming to a close around you, as though everything you're made for is shutting down?

Or perhaps you're looking at it all wrong.

Sometimes we forget that words, in their most beautiful form, are meant to bridge the gap created when two people are plagued by the tragedy of separate minds. Sometimes we forget that they mean more and less than anything we could possibly try to say with the, that they mean only what we want them to mean and they mean so much more. Confusion, born of a few carefully(or, more often than not, carelessly) chosen words can change the course of an entire conversation, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

Words, in all their splendor, only hold sway when you find the courage to use them. How often do we find that courage? How often do we say what we mean and mean what we say? It's hard; the world is cruel, when even those we love have to judge us based on our opinions. But are we really living, if all we're really doing is hiding behind our walls of pretty words?

Sometimes, in all the superior thoughts that make up the human condition, we forget to do the simple thing. How many of you have forgotten to dream, to love, to cry, just because you were busy with something "more important"? How many have stopped to take the time to understand what you were trying to say, without the clutter and bigoted expectations of the outside world?

What does your mind whisper when you leave it alone in a dark room? Does it whisper at all, or does it simply sigh? Is it content, or is it lonely? Does it reach out for something unseen, something words can't quite grasp? Does it whisper I Love You to a face it's never known? Might never know at all? Or has it fallen for someone it feels it can never have? Does it lay silent, dormant but ever-watchful, letting a tide of emotion build and crest against the waiting rocks of reality before it bothers to make itself known? Sometimes we know too much for our own good, much more than we give ourselves credit for.

Surely you've felt it. Surely you've heard it.

There's nothing so confusing, so beautiful, so utterly repulsing and yet magnetically attractive as the things one's own mind whispers when it thinks we aren't listening. When we forget ourselves, when we slip off into a world all our own and we think those things we wouldn't dare acknowledge—at least not in the sanctity of our waking hours. The world would be chaotic and strange if we all chose to tune in for even an hour each day, acting on those thoughts that repulse us so.

Why is it that the things we seem to want to say, we simply cannot? Humanity has made it apparent that all things in our nature can be nothing but wrong; those things which we yearn to say, society may scorn, or may ridicule.

When was the last time you were truly honest with someone?

When was the last time you thought you might be able to fall in love, if given the chance?

Did you ever admit it?

There's really nothing holding me back.