The Stars

I want to write, but I don’t know what to say. I want to expound on some thought or idea I have, but I don’t know which one, and I wouldn’t know where to start even if I did. I want to bare my soul for the world to see, but I don’t know how. Words somehow seem too shallow to truly show one’s soul, yet I know of others who do it, or at least makes one think they are looking at their soul. Perhaps they are as frustrated as the rest of us who can’t even fake it. I sometimes sit at night in silence, looking at the stars. I want to cry out to God, but I don’t because I doubt if he would hear, nor care if he did. So I sit there holding back the tears that threaten to form, the fears that threaten to consume, the doubt that threatens to overwhelm. I finish my drink and go back inside where the stars are hidden, where all the doubt, fears, and tears can be brushed away. Where I no longer think about God, the past, the future, nor anything else. Where I crawl onto my air mattress and go to bed.