Sealed lips don’t always hide stories, tired eyes aren’t always wary; scars remain scars and silence, silent. Why do we look for meaning and purpose behind usual things? What did we ever get from romanticism and exaggeration? Momentary bliss? Like sex? Sometimes we just have to accept. That people are assholes and that’s it.

Morning thoughts.

Y’know, sometimes I wish there’s something called fate. It’s wishful thinking and everything that’s predetermined sounds like a dream come true because you’d know if you’d succeed or suck balls but we’re stuck in this partly predictable consequential mess of a world that has unpredictable outcomes. Everything affects everything. Fuck y’all.

Uhh..that’s it.

I wish I could make you my world, believe your existence gives meaning to existence itself but for what? As foolish as it sounds, this search for meaning and purpose of existence are fickle and minuscule compared to the grandeur of life we miss out on, blinded by dreams and ambitions fabricated by a social…


It blows and blows and tries and goes. I’m here, I always am; lifeless like a stone. I pity neither the wind nor whatever cries within.

A chance.

Why do you love, you ask? Why does anything exist at all? There are things beyond reason, answers that dare not be questioned, and quests that can never end; Something as pointless as existence and unexplainable as the cosmos. Some may call it an illusion, you might even be delusional to call it An essence…


Oh! Those insects around the streetlight, ever so busy. The buzzing sound of bugs and annoying songs of crickets turned up the night orchestra. Sky seemed to be in peace, neither clouds nor stars. Moon hid behind me and there I was, staring at the streetlight. There’s something that separates us from other species, it’s…

I get by.

I raised my hand at the sky and closed my fist, pretending to catch the stars. Foolish as it my sound, a weird sense of beatitude crept into my soul, lighting up my insides. A peculiar warmth emboldens the adolescent heart caged inside my dejected adulthood. The unscrupulous skies have a magical way of inspiring…

The papers were white, embodying the light, reflecting minds; The thoughts were dark, like shadows lurking behind; Words were rainbow; in those colours hides our life.


I wish there was a “how” for every “what” And a “why” to every “how”. The search for meaning is almost always futile And scarcely fruitful.

Little things

There I was on the terrace last night, looking into the sky, staring at the moon. Well, that’s about it. I was just looking. It’s okay to do something that has no purpose; it just has to make you happy. Stop expecting meaningful shit all the time. Life itself lacks meaning. Enough said.


You ask me why I lay here all day, staring into nothingness ? ‘Cuz darling, when everything you believed in loses its meaning, your bleeding heart and shattered faith tell you that this is the closest you can get to dying before you go out and the cycle repeats. It’s a beginning and an ending…

Random Thoughts.

Can I just walk away and not come back? In a world where there’s no right or wrong, from a place where people laugh, singing a sad, sad song, where I’m unaware of myself but conscious of others; may I not ask, just leave? Don’t you think it’s too much to ask? To not look…

Well, y’know…

I gave your life a meaning, you say? Fuck that ‘cuz I can’t even give meaning to my words.


I’m just gonna lay here tonight Searching for you From star to star Connecting the dots Constellations apart