robin zy. lin

i know something about humans that you don't.

i watch them as they sleep at night, haunted by their own ghosts, and writhe in the clutches of something they can't see. i watch them scream and cry and break in an incomprehensible fear, a hell they've created. one of their own.

and get up in the morning like nothing happened; like they hadn't been shattered just mere hours before.

it's fascinating.

humans are unmatched in the sense that they are able to have been defeated in all areas physical, yet stay alive. whereas in other species, it'd have been a death sentence. an anomaly. they are able to get back up after a loss, stronger than before, determined to prove themselves. so much life and light in their eyes and souls, pure and tainted.

but darkness and light comes in a pair, perfectly balanced like twin acrobats on a tightrope. and humans tether on the edge, falling in nothing, yet everything.

no absolutes.

i have seen humans tear themselves apart in search of something more, eyes wild with mania and a sense of desperation so tangible. humans had abandoned everything concrete in pursuit of something fantasy, whimsical, daydreams in the air. something liable to disappear. they leave scratches on their arms and lose so much, just to feed their minds.

funny thing is, it tends to betray them as well.

humans are fascinating creatures. able to break themselves into pieces and put themselves back together, glossing over their cracks or wearing them like badges of honor. scared of nothing, yet everything.

no absolutes.

they dance with death on the edge, living off the adrenaline, far more alive than dead, yet chasing the darkness with nothing but curiosity. but i understand. you'd want to be friends with death too, when something far greater haunts you in your self inflicted hell.

hush now darling, go to bed.

sweet dreams.

i know something about humans that you don't.

they are far more broken than you could ever imagine.