Everything stands still. It is different. It is not sane.
It is one of those days when you turn your back, only to discover that there's nothing to be bothered--actually there is no single thing and there is no one to bother. The austerity and placidity are nauseous; these keep on pulsating in my mind. Spitting it all out is the last thing on my mind.
When noise in common generally gives disorientation and interruption, I just miss your noise. Tell me I am foolish of saying this but whoever reads this one, this "you" might be really you or not. My volition is cluttered with mess and I think rants and silliness and its like are the best solution of cleaning it up.
I should start getting used to this, I said to my self forcedly.
(and then there was silence)