
Distinct-unique_bird
Writing is my solitude. Gazing at the city at night, its bright lights bringing me to tears—that is my solitude. Placing headphones over my ears to drown out the noise—that is my solitude. Listening to the rain, letting it wash over me—that is my solitude. But tell me… when the world is finally silent, and there is no noise left to escape— will solitude still keep you safe, or will it be the thing that swallows you whole?