I realised a new thing about myself today. Whenever I find a book that I really like, I start hating the world. Or rather, I dislike the reality I live in. I dislike socializing. I dislike working. I dislike going through the daily routine that I go through. I dislike people. I want to complete reading. But i don't want to complete reading. I want to immerse myself in it. But i also want to live in reality. But reality is depressing. And I want another book. But i shouldn't read another book. I will get in a slump. But if i don't read, what meaning is there to this thing i call life. Will I ever be able to stop? Control? Will I ever discard this one addiction I'm clinging on to. I've managed to discard everything that made me feel addicted. But good plots. Marvelous characters. And beautiful alternate realities. Will I ever be able to get over them, discard them and live in my reality?

They say that each person's life is like a blank piece of paper that is dyed with different colors depending on the experiences they acquire. Some are splashed with bright colorful and others are sunk in dark.

But ultimately, after a point the paints mix and the once bright canvas turns murky. Meanwhile the dark colors mired in ugliness give out a weird sense of morbidness and beauty.

So ultimately, it is not the experiences that shape you, it is how you perceive and let those experiences mold you.

Not me subtly disowning a friend by changing the instagram chat theme to monochrome ✌️😗

One step.

The feet lands on a ground full of scattered roses.

Two steps.

The thorn pierce your naked feet.

Three steps.

A trail of bloody footprints imprint themselves behind you.

Four steps.

The sky is bright. The smiles are filled with joy. It is a beautiful world.

Five steps.

The sun in harsh. The smile hides daggers behind them. The beauty hides the ugliness.

Six steps.

It is dark. It is depressing. It is ruined.

The same smell. The same taste. But a different person.

I didn't know traumas also carried similarities.

"bE yOurSeLf"

Like okay Chad?

You don't have to 'be yourself' when you come in for an interview. Maybe next time take the advice "don't be yourself" if you want to land a job 🙄🙄

"bE yOurSeLf"

Like okay Chad?

You don't have to 'be yourself' when you come in for an interview. Maybe next time take the advice "don't be yourself" if you want to land a job 🙄🙄

IT'S INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY Y'ALL!!

Here is what you should wear for women's day:

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.

.

.

.

WHATEVER TF YOU WANT!!!

Happy women's day to every female out there!!!

Don't let any group, organization, government or human to tell you what you should wear.

Wear what you are happy and comfortable in and SLAY QUEENS!!!!!

With that said, what are you wearing for woman's day?

Flex on your outfits!

The worst is knowing I'm dispensable to literally everyone i know

The utter emptiness after an overload of dopamine

"you don't realize it but this too shall pass and you will mourn it"?

No darling. I mourn as soon as it happens because I know this too shall pass. I will no longer see the same familiar shoes outside my door one day. I will no longer be able to attack all my friends with hugs one day. I will no longer watch my mother nap in the sunlight or my father sitting on the sofa nearby dozing off as he watches his stupid videos on whatsapp. It will all pass. It is passing. And I mourn every single second of it.

Death itself doesn't seem to be bad. I think the process of reaching there would be painful...

Literature is like a religion to me and accomplished writers are Gods.

Budding writers are Saints and readers like myself are the believers.

So yes, its not just a book for me. It's much more than that. Sometimes, it's my whole day, sometimes it's my whole year.

I'm just a devotee and i will fuck anyone who shitposts about my interests to me after me explicitly saying I love this.

Do you know how badly I want to wake up every day and cry?

I don't live a miserable life. Neither do I lack anything. I have parents who love me in their own way. A brother and a sister who look out for me.

Yet I am greedy.

I want to wake up and hug them. I want to cuddle and sleep next to my sister. I want to once recieve a hug from my brother. And I want the arms that limp on the sides when I hug to finally embrace me.

And because I am greedy, I am miserable.

I just want to break down in someone's arms

I wish I had someone

Maybe I do

Who would be okay with it

But I wish I was okay with breaking like that

The thing is. I have learned to keep everyone at an arm length. So even those who eventually become tiring to hang out for others, they still remain my friends because I'm not that attached with them.

Everyone is the same because I'm the same for everyone. I shy away from taking a step forward in fear that it will put me behind by 10 steps.

So I stand there. In a limbo. Neither ahead. Nor behind. Just there.

And I remain friends.

If I were to die tomorrow,

I don't think I would care.

Would I have regrets?

Perhaps.

Would I care?

I don't think so.

I would regret the little things in life I did not take a chance at.

I would pity those poor fools who wasted their time mourning me.

But would I undo what has been done?

No.

I would simply accept it

As another chapter in my life

I close this pathetic book called

My Life.

Sometimes I wonder if my family likes me. But then in quite ways, they remind me.

*me struggling with coming to terms that I like girls and being super sad all the time about adding another reason to the list of why I am a disappointment*

Someone: you shouldn't roam around with such a depressing face. No one will like you. This is why no one likes hanging around with you. You are so gloomy all the time. :)