empty prayers and bloodshot eyes

Sometimes I wonder if people crave religion the way I do. I also wonder if people feel the need to run away like I do. Have they also found silence on the other end of their prayers and still see their own vacant eyes on the otherside of the world. What am I looking for? What have I always been looking for? Comfort? Stability? Have I damned myself in youth, filling my mind with my own utterings? I wonder if its the same force within me that hasn't let me sleep. You cannot be vulnerable with sleep. You cannot be vulnerable with belief. You cannot be vulnerable with others. You cannot be vulnerable in body. It feels like its been a war since the day I was born. But thunder still cracks and I still jump. How long will I pretend I'm not scared? How long will I be looking for something I won't let myself find? One day I hope my writing won't be so full of questions. Is it a night terror or a spirit? Will I ever know?