Days when you feel useless again.
You think of making a blog post on how almost everyone you're close to are people who you've interacted online mostly.
You think of making a blog post, comparing trippy psychedelic music of the 70's with today's counterpart.
You think of making a blog post on you love life.
You don't; you instead get stuck in your immovable, morbid state... stuck with one leg in the gutter and the other in the drain.
This urge, this need to feel productive... kills me from the inside at times.
It's like you look at all these people, who are mostly around the same age, doing well in life; having achieved far more than you have till now.
People console you; they tell you that it's because of different opportunities, better opportunities. Bigger places, better chances.
All that hogwash.
Anonymous once said, "If you really want to do something, you’ll find away; if you don’t you’ll find an excuse."
But what is the deal with all these quotes, eh?
All this philosophical nonsense.
This flexibility of these feeble words that you can put to use in whatever situation and time you deem fit.
Different meanings at different times, dollar now... dime sometime.
Quotes. The fake wise-men of our generation.
Oh wait, we already have them.
Anyhow, I digress.
Mum said, "Do the best you can wherever you are."
But what if I already am, ma?
This person on this website said, "I sometimes feel I just DO NOT belong here. It feels like whatever I do or plan to do is hollow and pointless. There are phases of depression and emptiness that I face. I feel I could have as well studied in DU (smoking away my college life, which I still do but without meaning to it). This feeling reaches its zenith when your grades suck or you lose a competition."
Wow. Fucker just raped my mind and stole everything I wanted to say.
Mothers you know, wonder women of the world.
One phone call and your brain gets re-wired.
But what if you don't know if it's for the good, these re-wiring?
What if you are just being inception-ed.
False promises and fall hopes, just rotting... grub for crows.
This is pointless.
You think of making a blog post on how almost everyone you're close to are people who you've interacted online mostly.
You think of making a blog post, comparing trippy psychedelic music of the 70's with today's counterpart.
You think of making a blog post on you love life.
You don't; you instead get stuck in your immovable, morbid state... stuck with one leg in the gutter and the other in the drain.
This urge, this need to feel productive... kills me from the inside at times.
It's like you look at all these people, who are mostly around the same age, doing well in life; having achieved far more than you have till now.
People console you; they tell you that it's because of different opportunities, better opportunities. Bigger places, better chances.
All that hogwash.
Anonymous once said, "If you really want to do something, you’ll find away; if you don’t you’ll find an excuse."
But what is the deal with all these quotes, eh?
All this philosophical nonsense.
This flexibility of these feeble words that you can put to use in whatever situation and time you deem fit.
Different meanings at different times, dollar now... dime sometime.
Quotes. The fake wise-men of our generation.
Oh wait, we already have them.
Anyhow, I digress.
Mum said, "Do the best you can wherever you are."
But what if I already am, ma?
This person on this website said, "I sometimes feel I just DO NOT belong here. It feels like whatever I do or plan to do is hollow and pointless. There are phases of depression and emptiness that I face. I feel I could have as well studied in DU (smoking away my college life, which I still do but without meaning to it). This feeling reaches its zenith when your grades suck or you lose a competition."
Wow. Fucker just raped my mind and stole everything I wanted to say.
Mothers you know, wonder women of the world.
One phone call and your brain gets re-wired.
But what if you don't know if it's for the good, these re-wiring?
What if you are just being inception-ed.
False promises and fall hopes, just rotting... grub for crows.
This is pointless.
 |
| Blurry minds, blurry lives. |
