Switching between anxious nerve wrecking nights of the swiftly passing life where I am a mere spectator and believing that I don't care about a thing in this world, I realised that it has been well over a year since we last met. And I missed you, a part of me was swaying with the wind, without content, ignorant; forgetting that you helped me when no one did/could.
I fell into the darkest black hole and lived to tell the tale. And when do I come back to you? Like a true mortal mammal, when I need you again.
My generation has a lot to lose. From Snapchat to Instagram, aspirations have become a joke. Sky-diving straight to the depths of hell self-created by us to numb the pain of falling and realising you fell. One day you just wake up and you are dead. Life has ended. No more possibilities, no more achievements, no sweet feeling of hope and definitely no more love.
Sharing my life with you was an experience. Someone there to complete my sentences. Someone nodding rigorously as you speak floating in the exact same mental depth you are in, not an inch less, not an inch more. Only if Hitler knew how life is going to be disappointing, there would be no need for a Blitzkreig.
Why won't the happy times return? Life is way too constant right now and it's killing me. What we had was real, a good old charm. Not something built on signals sent over by waves, where things can be said behind a screen. I refuse to hide behind a screen with my 'true' self.
I fell into the darkest black hole and lived to tell the tale. And when do I come back to you? Like a true mortal mammal, when I need you again.
My generation has a lot to lose. From Snapchat to Instagram, aspirations have become a joke. Sky-diving straight to the depths of hell self-created by us to numb the pain of falling and realising you fell. One day you just wake up and you are dead. Life has ended. No more possibilities, no more achievements, no sweet feeling of hope and definitely no more love.
Sharing my life with you was an experience. Someone there to complete my sentences. Someone nodding rigorously as you speak floating in the exact same mental depth you are in, not an inch less, not an inch more. Only if Hitler knew how life is going to be disappointing, there would be no need for a Blitzkreig.
Why won't the happy times return? Life is way too constant right now and it's killing me. What we had was real, a good old charm. Not something built on signals sent over by waves, where things can be said behind a screen. I refuse to hide behind a screen with my 'true' self.
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