As a bun laid in their bed late at night, listening to melancholic music, tapping some words into what was supposed to be their emotional vent book...her mind wandered.

Wandered into questions.

Why am I even doing this..?

It isn't like this is going to help...

I'm just...wasting time i could spend trying to sleep. Even though the only reason its even cool enough to try to sleep is because of the fans...the AC is out...

Why do i bother having ideas to draw, to write...its not like they are good ideas...

Why am i such an anxious and worrying mess...and how can anyone put up with me when im like that...

...I know why they do and i know why i have ideas to create... My mind just lies to me.

But im afraid of the day...i will truly believe the lies.

And the burden that will put on others if that comes to pass.

...why am i even entertaining the fear...

Its never good for me...

But i suppose between tiredness and the late night quietness...

My thoughts are all i have to keep me company...

And...well...im wondering just how much my heart has to hurt before I stop losing those i care about...whether to true loss...or people leaving me for whatever reason they choose.

Or whether i will break before that stops.

Setting the phone down, they decided that...perhaps some sleep would be best. While the melancholic music played.

A reminder...a reminder that even the good...had some bad in it.