I think, I don’t.

Thinking is hard: It’s like I can’t think when I try to think because my thinking fails to realise even trying to think is also thinking. What do I think about ? That mirror that makes me look at myself even if I don’t want to ? Or that tap that keeps leaking no matter…

Routine.

“It’s gonna be okay” I tell myself as I get dressed; almost ready for work. There’s breakfast on the table; not my favourite but it has to be eaten. Breakfast is the least complex thing to start with in the morning but it somehow stirs discomfort in my half empty stomach. Every step I take…

Mundane.

Maybe the worst thing we can do to ourselves is to be unhappy and being content with it. There are a million things bothering me and another million to be happy about but when was it ever about numbers? We have our preferences, don’t we? That’s all that matters. I long for something I don’t…

Routine.

Mario always fascinated me. As you play through the stages one after another, you’ll notice a repetition; certain stages reappear with little changes and a few new characters that hurl their shit at us. Then there’s a fire breathing demon spitting fireballs out of its mouth, one hit and we’re toast. You beat your ass…

“broken”fast.

"Too much water." I thought and ran back inside, emptied half of the bowl and walked outside. "The flame should be thin." Had to rush inside again. It took ten minutes to figure out how thin it must be. "Make sure to use some oil so that they don't stick." Mom yelled from the other…