Four walls,some books and a complete state of denial.
That’s how a day passes by. That’s how past 10 days have been. Four walls,four white walls and to be found on them are shabby scribbles out of exasperation. Four walls which are concrete,encompassing an unhinged intellect. Some books,some highly unlikable books scattered around stamping authority over my motion. Some books which decide the course,thus resulting in a lazy day and an even lazier night ,perishing to procrastination.
How well has this body misfitted in the pattern which has been an absolute Déjà vu for some days?
A despicable truth of reality always supersedes the notion of a concerned future;a mere work of fiction.
You don’t have to spend loads of energy to feel exhausted. Apparently, hopelessness is enough. How do I not oppose it ? To least of my amazement,I am comfortably resisting any help. A low functioning sociopath is what I have become. Can never relate to the universal idea of happiness but I do find Eurus quoting “Happiness is a pop song, sadness is a poem” highly sexy.However, in the midst of constant denial,I shall breathe for I am bit stagnant but not rotten.