Navel gazing, self image

A friend of mine described me

She is a writer

and holy shit

" They were, too. Vastly curious. A curiosity as wide as the night sky. Questions as coiled as their hair sprang from them, wide eyes always searching for an answer that should be there. That someone should know. .

There were so many answers, earnest things that deserved no more thought, but whose questions so many people were only just now asking.

Questions which sagged from long use, saddled with brittle answers grubby from the number of times people had tried to claim them.But these questions. These questions were still marble, firm no and flawless.

They were onyx, opaque and glassy. They were starlight, eternal and faint, though they burned with the heat of the end of times.

And so they asked their questions, their whys and hows, screamed them, practically, at the giver of all truths, who sat, unmoving, adamant that these answers had already been written, scripted on a heart destined not to know until blood, sweat, and tears had found the translation."