i still smile randomly walking down my society's footway, imagining the coincidence which must have befell for a metro to be running at the same time, and coincidentally when a man was tired enough from his daily life, commuting from his workplace to rest his body, and another coincident of him standing right in the center of the window, and the real coincidence emerges when a photographer was impelled enough to stand on a freeway to capture the metro flying with time and moving lives and capturing that man's story in frame. it all feels like a poetry by nature, i hope you understand.

being kind while listening to kanye feels like fever dream. and i love this fever dream 😛

I'm in a horrendous mood of old Bollywood

the absolute human audacity to gamble with awareness and mourn the loss as if it were fate.

i have a lot of emotions crumbled up inside of me, now that i don't even recognize that clustered ball of strings myself...
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the people who placed a bet on me, are losing. and those who gambled against are prolly cheering. i have finally become a person who has eaten up everything he knows. modern terminologies don't define me, but I'm very sure i am something more than pretentious and something less than what a genuine human feels like, when people see my canvas they find it familar but unique and yet totally distant from what they assumed.
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some parts of me cry for help, most of it quiet that down before a squeak can even be produced.
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im not sure what i want, but there's only one deep wish i can read carefully, that is, to be bigger than what big actually defines.
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but this is so so talk, nobody has ever reached it. my consciousness fights for existence in the coliseum but i look like a mere peasent standing with a wooden sword in a war field.
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in a war field, I'm in a war field in my own field, with my own people, fighting my own self and nobody to tell me when the timer buzzes off. pick me up and tell me the war is over and I'm having post trauma disorder, because the memories are clear to something in my brain like a mirror, but all i see is something like a toddler's painting who has just brushed all his painting brushes onto a paper.
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i went to break something, which feels like a huge wall made of iron, only to realise the wall was protecting me from even harsher demons I'm about to face, demons which eat up your whole identity, and leave you with nothing, except to reminisce over good memories we once had.
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is there some achievement award ceremony after this never ending war is over? will i get a medal for defeating all the demons or am i doing it all for nothing? my hands are tired and my body is even more, the suppressants don't work and these painkillers aren't dosaged well and all i know is something between these two is gonna kill me, but I'm trying to choose a death which suits my will. something of my own choice, so i feel a sense of achievement while dying, a sense of "i won".

maybe it's some sort of different despair when you realise you don't even remember your childhood.
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or when you try to remember it's all just noise which you never wanna listen, you're so scared to call them out. there's no saving you, you hide under a table thinking it's all gonna be okay, but it never does.
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mistakenly, you try to forget thigns so you don't say unspeakable things to somebody, and now your brain is all wired up to act avoidant.
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i don't know, I'm a piece of shit deep down, and those who deny it don't know me at all, maybe you will someday but i wish i lived my life differently to tell you all I'm not a pos. except i wouldn't be saying all this if i haven't had so many ego deaths until now.
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have you even like screamed under water not cause your dad scolded you, or you didn't get your gf/bf in your life. but because you were so genuinely fed up of how you exist. it makes your blood dry and you're too coward to end it all so you just let your emotion out and scream like you never even wanted to be born.
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are you scared of saying things before it gets uttered from your mouth? because you either get barrage of slaps or so badly humiliated you deeply wish you never had a mouth?
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there is no conversation that I'm not ready for, except for the ones that project my fears out in plain syllables and stare down at my eyes like i did another crime for being, but i have empathy for even my fears and some people would even disagree onto that.
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i wish to be genuinely, so so so much want to just erase myself from everywhere, but i so deeply crave to be want to seen at the same time.