It seems more like a science fiction novel

I have begun to allow myself to drift away into a dark unknown. The shadows my only friends as they call to me hauntingly. "Sleep my child and when the morning wakes the skies will not be red no longer." Oh how I cling to that promise! These stars no longer shine and the moon suffocated by dark clouds as if concealing a mysterious secret. This feeling of intense fear crashes upon me so violently, my lungs refuse to let me breathe. Ah, yes, the ill fated news has wavered my emotions so upon their untimely arrival. In essence it seems as if life itself was justifiably unbalanced, so in the true nature of things a disastrous change was ordered. One right after the other. When we are finally able to open our eyes far past the calm height of the storm, and see the end result of the aftermath that should be felt for years to come, only a sigh of relief that it is officially over.

And now that we have chalked up the fatalities and gathered all that has been left among the ruins we begin a perilous journey to continue the search for others like ourselves. Has this strange and demented virus carried itself outside the crumbled walls of the once contained sterile environment? Were we the only ones who had witnessed its apocalyptic wrath? Harsh winds sound in our ears as we cross a barren wasteland that once had been filled with lush grass and a plethora of flowers in a vast meadow. The full anger of the hot sun bares down like a hawk, leaving no hidden caverns to be wary of, at least for now. We have yet to find a safe place that will be oblivious towards those that rise against the night.

It seems as if I have gone off on another little rant slash book in progress, than getting my feelings and thoughts sorted for the world to see. Maybe I am too afraid to even let a stranger peek inside my head if just for moments at a time. I pick myself apart trying to word things just right to seems as much of a dazzling writer as I hope to be one day.

As I fumble over the keys and stutter through the thoughts in my head as quickly as I possibly can, I begin to loose myself in the mindset of a character that I have no intentions of creating. I forget the currency as I begin to bring incoherence to the front of a jumbled billboard in hopes of making sense. But who said the best sense is the one that makes sense?

All In A Jumbled Mess

Kaylee