“Because I have seen a rare kind of peace in the eyes of loners. Because I have heard whispers of battles of the accompanied.”

You surrender to instantaneous instincts then mourn over becoming a slave.

At times this thought makes me arid, if the vibe was mutual, why is this reminiscence one sided.

Don’t tell me to not daydream. That’s the only place where I live and don’t think.

What more is loneliness if not the longing to be understood? The longing to be understood by the self.

Look at us. Always choosing devastation followed enlightenment over spoon fed lessons.

Are disappointing patterns just patterns only? Or are they a mockery of your stupidity?

You hypnotize yourself with memories that were meant to be forgotten, then wonder why destiny never favors you.

Transient emptiness over irreparable brokenness.

Falling for superficial costs depth its entire existence.

Is it a loss that is still present? Or a presence that seems to be lost?

How is it that the colors don’t seem colorful anymore? How is it that the child in me wants to live yet keeps dying more and more?

And maybe at the end, it’s not about the loss or victory but the moments in which, we put all the efforts into something.

Insincerity masked as maturity is toxicity.

Not all homes are meant to be lived in. Some are meant to be abandoned. Some burnt.

Being sad means being elite for sad can’t be those who struggle to make the two ends meet.

Empty boxes pleading empty boxes to fill them with peace and love.