In His Lines

This person, consumed by their own reflection, peers into the eyes of another not to connect or empathize, but to seek validation and admiration for their own perceived artistry. Every glance exchanged becomes a mere opportunity for self-admiration, as if the other person's eyes were merely a mirror reflecting back their own image, distorted through the lens of their ego. They manipulate conversations and interactions to pivot back to themselves, crafting a narrative where they are the protagonist, the muse, the masterpiece. Their obsession with self-expression blinds them to the genuine connections and beauty that lie beyond the surface, trapping them in a shallow pool of narcissism where they swim alone, endlessly chasing their own reflection.

 In the dance of existence, similar to the dual faces of a coin, each soul unfolds with untold hues and depths. Yet, envision that coin drenched in the luminance of holographic paint, where every glance reveals a kaleidoscope of shifting narratives. Such is the essence of humanity, an puzzling canvas of endless perspectives. Just as the coin's luminous shine refracts light into a spectrum of visions, so too does the human spirit emit in a a lot of shades. Every encounter, every breath, unveils a new face, a fresh revelation, akin to the ever-twinkling faces of a diamond. We are not lonely beings, but rather, tapestries woven from the fabric of countless encounters, experiences, and reflections. Thus, like the holographic coin, the essence of a person rises above the confines of singularity, embracing a symphony of difficulties waiting to be explored by those who dare to peer beyond the surface and skin.

 In the quiet solitude of his private world, he chose to keep his innermost thoughts and feelings guarded, veiling himself in a shroud of secrecy. Yet, despite his resolve to remain hidden from prying eyes, his shadow betrayed his deepest emotions with unwavering transparency. Each flicker and sway of his silhouette painted a vivid portrait of his inner turmoil and joys, revealing a kaleidoscope of emotions he kept concealed from the world. Though his lips remained sealed, his shadow spoke volumes, radiating a warmth and generosity that belied his reserved nature. It became a beacon of light, illuminating the path to his soul, offering glimpses of vulnerability and resilience intertwined. Despite his desire for privacy, his shadow remained a testament to his authenticity, shining brightly with the essence of his true self for all who cared to see.

In a single glance, she could unravel the intricate layers of emotion that veiled his true feelings. His eyes, once vibrant with laughter, now held a glimmer of sorrow, a silent plea for understanding. Every movement, every subtle gesture betrayed the weight he carried upon his shoulders, a burden hidden beneath a facade of strength. His smile, though seemingly bright, appeared fragile, like porcelain masking the cracks of a shattered heart. Despite the world seeing only the surface, she perceived the storm raging within him, a tempest of anguish longing to be acknowledged. In her gaze, he found solace, for she saw beyond the mask, offering him the comfort of genuine compassion in a world of superficiality. 

 "What are ghosts?" doesn't sound more appealing than "Who are ghosts?". Traditionally, ghosts are depicted as fear horror deaths, etc. But have you ever looked at the good side of the moon? ghosts are just 'bodyless souls'. Don't let them haunt you if you think you are More happy and living a better life than them, then I need some of what you're snorting. Think like this - What makes your life happy or sad? Materialistic things, the way you look, the way people feed you your daily dose of validation, how your current relationship is going, whether it is good or bad or complicated even. These are the things that your mood is dependent on. Now back to the ghosts. They are free from all the materialistic things. Their happiness does not depend on how other ghosts will judge them, or when someone breaks their heart even when they don't have a heart to be broken. Nothing is perfect and ghosts are literally nothing, so they are perfect. We are th...

 Dreams are just the visions of our soul going on a vacation. The lifeless body perched solacely on the bed of this reality. As the soul departs for its abstract journey which we call "escaping reality". Just a we take souvenirs When we go for a trip, the moments happening in the souls vacation are akin to the souvenirs that a soul brings back to the body the person that is concealed behind the shield of suppression is delighted when the moments from the dreams intersect with reality. When the moments don't find a way back to the human, they stay futile in one's mind. The comradery between the soul and the human fails when the human is having a bad day or a tough night. All the unreciprocated attempts are inefficacious when the human is sad.

 In the vast canvas of life, there exists a soul decorated with hues of compassion and decorated with strokes of empathy, a person whose very essence yearns to uplift others, to nurture their dreams, and to illuminate their paths with the gentle glow of encouragement. This individual, with a heart overflowing with kindness, seeks comfort in the happiness of those around them, tirelessly weaving the fabric of friendship with threads of sincerity and trust. Yet, amidst their noble endeavors, they find themselves standing alone, cast into the shadows of neglect and misunderstanding. Their selflessness becomes a beacon for opportunists, drawn to exploit their generosity with callous hands. And yet, despite the bruises inflicted by betrayal and the weight of one-sided care, this resilient spirit continues to persevere, holding onto the belief that one day, the seeds of their goodwill shall blossom into a garden of enduring companionship, where the echoes of laughter and the warmth of ge...

 Perched upon an uncomfortable chair, he indulged in the bitter juice, his body twisted in a slightly awkward position. Yet, as he leaned back against the unforgiving wooden frame, a composed smile graced his lips. Despite the discomfort, he found consolation in the memories swirling within him, each sip of the bitter concoction bringing forth a cascade of happy thoughts. In this unlikely setting, his mind wandered freely, weaving through cherished moments and reliving the joy they brought. Despite the discomfort beneath him, he remained undeterred, finding comfort in the blissful recollections that enveloped him.Regardless of the external discomfort, internally he is at peace, demonstrating the resilience of the human spirit to find happiness amidst adversity.

 Trapped feelings are akin to an exhaust fan curtained on one side. Much like the fan's futile attempts to push air through the obstruction, our emotions strain against the barriers we erect, yearning for a sweet rescue. Yet, concealed behind veils of suppression, they linger, their vibrant hues muted, their melodies silenced. Only when we unveil the obscured, granting them space to breathe and flow, do our emotions find release, painting the canvas of our existence with the hues of authenticity and the symphony of genuine expression.

 As he pours himself a drink into the stunning wine glass, each drop falls with a weight of contemplation. His mind, entangled in a web of intricate thoughts, scrutinizes every motion, every moment. Each pour becomes a metaphor for the delicate balance of his thoughts, the swirling liquid mirroring the complexity of his mind. With each refill, he pours not just wine but pours out his worries, his fears, his hopes, and his dreams, each drop a reflection of his inner turmoil. The elegant curves of the glass capture his attention, inviting him to lose himself in its beauty while he wrestles with the chaos within. In the quiet solitude of the moment, he finds solace, if only momentarily, in the ritual of pouring and contemplating, each sip a brief respite from the relentless overthinking that plagues his mind.

 As the soothing strains of a symphony fill the air, a solitary figure finds themselves immersed in a poignant reflection, grappling with the weight of regret that hangs heavy upon their soul. Each note, a melancholy echo of choices made and opportunities lost, serves as a haunting soundtrack to their introspection. Amidst the crescendo of strings and the plaintive wail of woodwinds, memories of past decisions rise like specters from the depths of their consciousness, each one a painful reminder of paths not taken and chances squandered. With every swell of the music, they confront the harsh reality of their own fallibility, grappling with the bitter sting of hindsight and the unrelenting march of time. Yet, even amidst the symphony of remorse, there lies a glimmer of hope, a quiet resolve to learn from the mistakes of the past and strive for redemption in the melody of tomorrow.

 In the relentless whirlwind of life's chaos, there comes a point where the weight of existence becomes too much to bear. Like a caged bird desperate for freedom, one may find themselves trapped in a suffocating cycle, endlessly looping through the same struggles and strife. Faced with the overwhelming burden of their reality, they reach a breaking point. With trembling hands and a heart heavy with despair, they shatter the windows of their confinement, desperate for a breath of fresh air, for a glimpse of light beyond the darkness. In that moment of liberation, amidst the shards of broken glass, they dare to defy the relentless grip of fate, to forge a path of their own making, away from the suffocating grasp of the hellish loop that once held them captive.

 Standing on the edge of the rooftop in the stillness of the night, a whirlwind of thoughts dances through the mind like shadows cast by moonlight. There's a strange allure to the emptiness below, a temptation to surrender to gravity's pull and let go of the burdens that weigh heavy on the soul. Amidst the urban cacophony far below, a profound sense of isolation pervades, as if suspended between the realms of the mundane and the infinite. With each gust of wind, whispers of doubt and despair brush against the skin, mingling with the echoes of distant sirens and the rhythmic pulsing of the city's heartbeat. In this moment of quiet desperation, the boundary between existence and oblivion blurs, offering a tantalizing glimpse of release from the relentless march of time. Yet, amidst the chaos of thoughts and emotions, a flicker of hope lingers, a reminder that even in the darkest of nights, the dawn still waits on the horizon, promising the possibility of a new beginning.

 From the moment a child draws breath, they unknowingly become the repository of countless hopes and dreams, both their own and those of the world around them. Like Atlas bearing the weight of the heavens, the child shoulders the burden of expectations placed upon them by parents, teachers, and society. With each passing day, the weight of these aspirations grows heavier, pressing down upon their tender shoulders until they bend beneath the strain. The child strives to meet the lofty standards set before them, laboring to excel in academics, sports, or any pursuit deemed worthy of admiration. Yet, as the demands escalate and the pressure mounts, cracks begin to form in their fragile facade. Finally, under the weight of unrelenting expectations, the child collapses, crushed beneath the weight of hopes too heavy to bear.

 When a person decides to end it all, what triggers it? last fight? random wave of sadness? depression? does he end it in a fit of rage, or after days of thinking? punishing himself because he hurts someone or he knows he is gonna hurt someone? was it guilt that killed him? banishing the monster within or afraid that monster would banish him? does he see it as freedom? or suffering? if he sees it as freedom, his loved ones did a terrible job. does he cut himself? take a leap of faith? poison himself? or just lose all contact from the knowns. what goes through his mind? same recurring thoughts? or diff thoughts on every sand falling down the glass? he may find himself grappling with a profound sense of hopelessness, feeling utterly alone and unhappy

 Life is like mastering the art of not getting caught. It's a skill we hone as we navigate the complexities of society, constantly balancing between following the rules and pushing the boundaries. We become adept at slipping through loopholes, sidestepping consequences, and outmaneuvering obstacles. Yet, amidst this intricate dance, there's a deeper truth: true fulfillment comes from living with integrity and authenticity, not just from evading detection. While avoiding trouble can seem like the ultimate goal, the real mastery lies in aligning our actions with our values, even when nobody's watching. It's about mastering the delicate balance between maneuvering through life's challenges and staying true to ourselves.

 What is the fundamental purpose behind our existence? Is it merely to navigate through the mundane routines of daily existence, seeking solace in the simplicity of basic human needs? How do we find meaning in the seemingly trivial tasks that consume our days, like preparing meals or tending to our physical well-being? Is there a profound significance hidden within the ordinary moments, such as sharing laughter with loved ones or feeling the warmth of the sun on our skin? Can the simplicity of life's basic elements offer a gateway to a deeper understanding of our own humanity? In the pursuit of grand ambitions and lofty goals, do we sometimes overlook the beauty of simplicity, the quiet moments of contentment found in the most ordinary of experiences? How do we strike a balance between embracing the complexity of our aspirations and appreciating the simplicity of life's inherent joys? And amidst the chaos of modern existence, is it possible to reconnect with the fundamental ess...

 When sadness grips the heart, it can feel as though one is tethered to their emotions, unable to break free from the heaviness that weighs them down. it's akin to holding onto the throttle of a motorbike, the grip tightening with each passing bush. the roar of the engine becomes a comforting distraction, drowning out the noise of sorrow that echoes within, tears that put on an act on the face. the rhythmic hum of the motorbike's engine mirrors the steady beat of a pained heart, offering solace in motion. Yet, despite the urge to rev forward, the throttle remains clenched, a metaphorical anchor tethering one to their emotional state. It's as if the mere act of releasing the throttle would signify surrender to the sadness that consumes them. but just as every journey has its end, i always wonder- what's next? turning blank? what do u hit? the breaks, or a dead end?. You wanna leave it, but u cant control it, its like the sorrow is holding your fist saying "don't...

 Just like when we press one of the 2 syringes connected with a tube, the other one comes up, and if u keep pressing both of them, something's gonna def break. so when one thing closes, other should open(its that's easy), but, parents, seem to close every door, and then our stupid urge wants to each door and explore what's beyond, and then they scold us, i mean, you all built up the damn pressure, don't blame it up on us. always jumping on conclusion verry fast, why do you all have to judge every single thing we do, every single move we make, compare to every fucking soul they see. why..........

 When someone dies, not so close to u but still they are the part of the so called "happy family". How are u supposed to feel? I mean do we force ourselves to feel bad for that person, or the pple close to him. What if i don't feel sad, nothing tbh. What to do then, label ourselves 'heartless'? Pple gather and console the corpse's close ones, what do they do? Display the truth, I mean surely that person isn't that dumb to not know. What about small children, what do we tell them? Give them false hopes, when we know it'll only make it worse going forward? Why not tell them straight forward "u ain't gonna see him", surely they'll get over it after sometime, other than carrying the pain for the rest of the life. It's right to feel sad when someone very close to u dies, but why the consolidation? Just to gain empathy? boggles my mind