onehundredtwentytwo.

Listening, quietly, patiently, to the sounds around me. The clock is ticking. Its 2:34 a.m. Birds are chirping in erratic intervals in the nearby distance. Perhaps, if I knew the purpose for it, I wouldn’t refer to them as erratic. Millions and thousands and hundreds of minuscule, cold, delicate droplets of rain scattering across the many surfaces outside. I wonder if I could discern the sound of one from the other. Maybe one day I will. One day, when there aren’t so many. The chirping in the distance has amplified itself, coming closer. The rain has stopped. The birds sound as if they are relieved. Rather, I assume that they’re excited now. I don’t speak bird, fluently at least, so I wouldn’t possibly be able to differentiate if they were excited or just chirping because they can. On the other hand, it isn’t that easy to understand with humans. When we speak, we speak with a purpose, from our hearts. We speak for desire. We speak for attention. We speak because we have an everlasting goal to use our language to communicate our opinions, our feelings, our thoughts to ourselves and the rest of the world. Yet, at times, words can never be enough to explain the deepest of our true emotions. I wonder, could we explain them more clearly in bird? EDIT: Have you ever wondered what I think when I read through my writings? What the hell is this? It must be mediocre, at its best that is. Come on, step your game up honey. And if you could, take a shower, please. You smell terrible -_- Ha.

No matter what you do or say, there’s nothing you can do to make people understand you. - Kurt Cobain