It’s cold out there, but the skins are burning. The plurality is seeable in this statement, in “skins” not “skin” as multiple layers of it is burnt and is now all left on ashes.
A Write-Up
A pilot text is all that have ever taken, when in introspection an idea emerges as a worm stuck in the mind. May all the creative muses land up on me and enlighten me of what is right that I must be doing inspite of all the stupidity around. Of all the grammar I know, out of which whatever I have written, separating me from the dead that’s around, is this write-up, in all of its pristine beauty with all its clandestine aspirations.
The Chaos of Knowing And Not Knowing
It’s confusing, ain’t it? Thinking, believing and then, just letting the pen flow with what isn’t there yet, unbelievable as to where it is coming from and what exact reason. I know, for sure, this ain’t the question I need asking. The thirst of knowing is unquenchable and more terrifying is knowing what not to know or more precisely what to forget. It would be all be junk, this write-up if it is incomprehensible or it just doesn’t make sense. Is it all junk?
Of All That’s Gone, Never To Come Back
Time, an abstraction to familiarise us with regularity, with routine, with the sense of day and night, with progress that it all is moving forward not backwards. Fair enough. It’s all gone, it seems, the good times. This is patchy, the present, the time of now, and if I say it is, it is. There’s something after all this. We all thought it be better. It could be, it it couldn’t be, but we expected, we rightfully hoped for it. Anyways, I’m saying, it could be. Does it ought to be? Well, if all of you of today is working for it, it should be. No matter how ignorant you are, the good will come.
Surprise!
Me and you, yes even you, we are out of our minds. Something says us that we just can’t do, just can’t feel, just can’t change. That is right, we can’t. Not today, not tomorrow, not with an inspirational movie, not with a new year resolution of sorts. The people who put us down were right, they always were. Earlier, you just decided to charm over their desperation to tame you. Yes, you decided and it was all natural. Now, if things are wrong, if it has parched you of your sanity, it was all set to make a fool out of you, as you always were. Surprise!
The Beauty
Quicker it is feel the surface of deep waters you plunged into, the quicker it will be set the boll rolling. Upwards, it is, the way, we always talked about. Yes, we are sad, and declared ourselves utter failure, and everything’s right about it, I tell you. In this beautiful time, it’s all there. Even its all empty, the basket of ideas, the inspiration, the pride, and it’s all negative around, it is, my friend, the best time to recapture the lost lands. You face is telling it all, no need to hide under blankets now.
What Is There Now?
This, whatever it is, the junk, the confusion, the knowing, or the beauty, is all stagnant. Non-movable properties stuck in the marshy lands ever beyond your reach. You chose to lead your caravan over there, it was a choice. Now, and whatever that’s out next, is, well, positively achievable. This text is a surety of that.
Read More: https://thewritersage.com/undo-the-diary-entry-of-a-nobody/
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