Tagged: sad

Love letters

my peace is

intoxicated by the violence 

of your love. 

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I am not for this world.

Sophie: …It concentrated me to the exclusion of everything else. It was like a drug. Everything Else? The world has just become so inhuman. Everyone’s plugged in. Blindingly inarticulate, obsessed with money, their careers, stupidly, arrogantly content. I can’t talk to them. I fight them. I wanna destroy them even. I crave interaction, I crave it. But you just can’t anymore. They pull their devices out for every little thing, to reinforce their petty, convenient notions. To decide where they are going to shop, what they are going to eat, what movies they are gonna watch. Everything they ingest.

Therapist: Why does that upset you?
Sophie: Because what is left, oh my god.

Therapist: But that doesn’t have to be you.
Sophie: Okay. Its like this is all a game and I haven’t been told what the rules are. Or even worse. If I had, I am ill-equipped to follow them. All I can do is provoke. I become spiteful. I’m just as bad as they are. They? I’m, I’m worse. I fucking hate myself for it. I am so fucking lonely. Why is the world so base? Why is it so insensitive? Why is it so selfish? Why am I? I am not for this world.


Anesthesia

pictorial diaries 2

Its just a turn,
a curve in angle.
But significantly metaphorical;
Its like watching your whole life,
slip from right under your feet.
It says so much more,
shows how you’re not willing to let go.
makes you confront your deepest desires.
Turn around goodbyes, one of my favourite attires.

*an archive leftover*

Unflinching courage, a doze of pills,
Straight to heaven either, or gain some skills,
Know not beyond, what I know
What I know, is dizzy and blurry from all that fake-coke
Deluding and fooling, who cares? At least I am living.
Am I? Guess not. Can I ? Guess not.
See setting the definitions straight is the matter,
Breathing, loving, breakups doesn’t sum it,
Life is about discovery, places and courage.
Life is about parents as much as my lover, obsession with either is a thriller and a killer.
My perspectives are what make me me
Yet learning yours is what keeps me free,
Give me your shoes for mine,
I’ll try walk your life.
For the courage I can muster up is only this much tonight.

The deliberate yet unconscious attempts; Click away

So I was traveling in the metro today, and I saw the people clicking selfies. Well every one takes them these days, so that’s not something new. But they way they click it is what bothers me. Not the angles, nor the filters. It’s their faces – before and afters – Maybe you have noticed it too, how they smile for the pictures and if you catch them in that moment you’ll see how happy they look. But stay for a little longer and so many times, the smile disappears. Not even a hint of it is left. That transformation is what I noticed today has been bothering me. Is it necessary to smile? But again, it’s kind of internalised isn’t it ( “Say Cheese” ).

The other thing that I realised (very connected to the previous realisation) is that their followers and viewers won’t ever get to know how they were actually, in reality. Just a stranger might get a glimpse or two of the truth, and that’s that. The truth shall be buried. Don’t know if it’s a topic worth discussing (saying that after all that ^, I know, I know. ) but it just made me feel lonely for a second there.