I consider myself to be a morally centered individual, but not self righteous. Being such has more to do with the fact that it is easier for me to keep a clean conscience. I hold honesty to be above all. Without it we are lowly beings. Above all, I will always be myself.
Writing is a passion/hobby of mine:
I feel the receptors in my brain fire as the spark travels through my body triggering my heart rate to climb until I struggle to speak. Suddenly awaking from a dream, I cannot recollect what or why my heart is beating so feverishly. I attempt drawing on my subconscious but to no avail. I have only this vague feeling that I've witnessed something life altering to then have it ripped away from myself. Left with only one option, trying to fall back into dreams for the hope to take in that amazing feeling once more.
In the mourn, I feel the memory in the forms of shadows. Catching in my peripherals to only vanish as I jerk my head around to catch a glimpse. I chase it throughout my day. As night falls once again, the near aberrations dissipate and yield to the complete darkness. My mind still reaching out into the dark as if it could be grasped physically. It can only be understood that this is only the psychological, however, it does not necessarily result a lacking in the physiological either; it is the force of multiple causes. No effect. They feed independently sharing mutual grounds within the mind. Questioning existence of life, of being, of biological reactions. None of these pondering or rationales provides any comfort to a curious mind. Understanding either the biological or the state of being is no closer to any collective existence.