Sometimes when it's raining, we'd like to believe that heaven is crying- atleast along w us. Life sometimes feel like a dark, unfathomable vestibule that can't stop smelling fishy enough, you'll feel intrigued &suspicious. I'm still raw, all th way to my bones-sometimes I feel brand new, at times, I looked down to th palm of my hands to search for any signs of excessive age-ing, but there's not even a spot of wrinkles. I envy faces that under imponderable circumstances, still bolt under full relays of melancholy; its smth I'll never learn to grasp. I want t find a key, any fucking key that will lead me to another alive dalai lama who will tell me its worth it to smile, to make someone else happy even when you're not. As a child, I learned to fall asleep talking to th wall in the darkness of my bedroom, thinking it would be the same splendour speaking to my sister, if I had one. I only dared to talk to my mum when I'm happy. I buried my childhood &my memories deep because everybody is already facing reality- I didnt want to look foolish to them cause frankly, I don't know where to start. For some strange reason, I walk aimlessly through crowds to make myself feel claustrophobic &frustrated at th fucking fastlane. I get so pissed off, at th human traffic, th obliviousness, I think I should point a pistol to th sky &scream for everybody to slow down! See, these are th kind of things that get me pre-occupied; the vague plans of changing history, the pretense &th possible outcome makes me feel safe enough for me to move on. I know I need to go. Somewhere, anywhere. Bring me. Save me. Please.