It’s been a long time since I sat in front of my laptop staring at a Microsoft word document, emptying my thoughts and feelings upon the blank screen as my fingers crunch the keyboard keys.

So long that I’ve lost my touch.

But one never loses touch to his/her feelings. Or so I’d thought. Maybe one day if I stopped brooding over supposedly depressing events, sadness would cease to affect me.

All the things I used to love about the night are now haunting me. It’s like a nocturnal monster hungry for feelings of grief, trying desperately to scrape the sides of an empty shell, feeding mercilessly on every ounce of dark, dismal emotions. Is it me, or does the night seem so much lonelier?

Where have all the laughter and joy disappeared to? Probably the work of the dark night skies, sucking up my happy thoughts in hopes of making midnight a tint brighter. Yeah, that’s probably it.

You know the kind of eerie silence so quiet that you hear a shrill note screaming in your ears. Screaming for release.
That’s only the way I see it.
Others may very well see and appreciate the unspeakable beauty of it. Of a note that seems to warp in tone and pitch, forming a melody that swims in their head.

Oh sure, I feel it too. Except that all I hear is a chaos of psychedelic noises pulsing in a counter-heartbeat. Ironic, I know – the talk about all these sounds out of nothingness. But this is just a worded description of how I perceive things to be. That’s perhaps where the phrase “more than words can say” comes from.

Somehow I know a part of me is enjoying this painful silence.

It has come to such a point that I start to replace the dance that play in the night with heavily processed music blasting from my headphones. Something tells me that if I pour soulless sounds into my head, my troubles would in turn be forced out. Simple laws of physics there – when you forcefully fill a container until it exceeds its carrying capacity, something has to give way. Same logic?

There’s something I forgot though, the reason why misery is gnawing up at my insides. It is expectations. Yet how many times do I have to be let down to know that certain expectations are merely an illusionary goal to keep fools waiting for something that would probably never happen in their lifetime?

Some slog out all their lives in hopes of living a life of luxury. They frown upon those who desire nothing more than a loaf of bread to fill their stomach and a shelter over their heads. ‘Fools’ they are called. But who are the real fools here? ‘We are meant to live life to the fullest.’ People blinded by the yearning for life in the lap of luxury equate this line to money, status and fame. These are what they crave for, what would plaster a smile on their faces. What they do not know is that all these are just man-made devices of deceiving themselves because they are too shallow to contain the real volume of happiness life has to offer.

And thus. I should be happy, shouldn’t I?

Indeed. The moon pirouettes in zest and glee. ‘Tonight is your night,’ he chuckles. Stars look shimmering-ly good in their smart poised tuxedos and elegant flowing gowns. They swirl around the midnight dance floor, spicing up their night with sips of martini. An extraordinary star glistens amidst them all, her coy smile radiating a sphere of alluring elegance and exuding a hint of anticipation.

‘May I have my last dance?’