There is something absolutely calming in standing in a glass box with sound-proof, transparent walls.
Its amazing because I’m standing inside and I am seeing how busy the streets are.
I cant hear them.
I can only imagine the sound of engines and car horns and the commotion of people.
But the stillness is so deafening, I think i forgot how.
It was, at that moment, the most beautiful thing for me because despite all the chaos, there is this calmness, this bigger peace that is overlooking it. I am overlooking it. This quiet box, overlooking the city.
I just feel that more often than not, my head seems to be in the inverse. That there is calmness outside of me and everything inside is burning and screaming. You can only imagine the serenity for me to see that for once, my head was empty. Like I could push everything out and they all obliged in silence.
In all honesty, words have failed me. Every word ive ever written – where do they go, are they even still holding their significance? The truth is words lose meaning unless you’re shakespeare or ee cummings or earnest hemingway. They have failed in promising to put across the message that I felt every single word and that every syllable still resonates till today. Where the heck have my words led me. Sure, fall in love with my words, fall in love with the short-lived breath it holds, fall in love with my narratives and my subtle text. Can you fall in love with the dead weight of it too? Can you keep believing in words that dont move you even a bit. That it’s still breathing for someone else – for me. Where do i end up in this. If words lose meaning. Dont i lose meaning too?
Why do we stop doing what we love
Just to progress in society?
How does our heads get so shaped and enslaved so easily-
When is it that other people’s thoughts
hold higher priority than what helps us breathe?
I hope that through everything, the thoughts in my head, every unspoken line that has absolutely no right to be there..
I hope that they remained there. I hope they remained unreadable.
I hope that my breathing was stable and that the internal beating in my head wasnt loud enough to cause worry.
I hope my eyes wasnt giving me away.
What i really want to do is to be someone else. So that I can meet myself. And beat the crap out of me.
With a metal chair.
And then cry at my own funeral.
What is a minute of silence for a person that is now silent forever?
They are only just starting their lives and we are misusing our own.
They shouldn’t get a minute; they should get a few more decades of breath.
The Little Prince is really important to me.
But i am in a world of grownups obsessed with the matters of consequence and forgets that whatever is essential is invisible to the eye.
We are all going to outrun time. And when we’ve reached the end, it may come to materialize that we rushed what could have been.. a pretty great story.
The lecture was on sociology and the lecturer asked me what was it I desired.
I stared at him for a good long minute, knowing exactly what i wanted but also knowing that it wasnt the answer he was hoping to get. Right now, all i want is the world to end and for everyone to go into eternal sleep so that nothing horrible exists anymore. No stress, no stereotypes, no hate, no prejudice, no troubles, no feels. We are polluting ourselves and it is terrible.
But im not going to expose my morbid darkness in a lecture theatre filled with fuckboys and innocent minds. And so i answer a true answer, the answer that i go to when i’ve given up on some aspect of life – a relatively expected answer that gains a smirk from this weird teacher.
I desire ice cream.