I reminisce the same old memories, cry for the same reason, laugh at the same joke and write the same thing over and over again. Life itself is repetitive, what’s there in routine?
There is a rhythm in chaos. I sway to the beats of psychedelic laughter; memories sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks. What was once a repetition has now become routine.
You are it. You are the routine.
A habit. A catastrophe.
In collaboration with Happy soul (thank you🥺)