Perhaps the world is made to be a chaos filled with lies.
Perhaps uncovering truths isn’t the best way to go.

It feels like a morning after the wildest storm. The leaves rustle as gentle breezes pass by. The air is fresher than ever, almost makes one’s nose tingle. Yet, something feels different, out of place. Something sinister, was left behind.

This seed, it’s like no other. In the beginning, its plantation worked so silently, meticulously, even the most skillful cannot see. Darkness comes as its growth spout hits. Uncontrollably, maniacally, it grows. It creeps into every crack under the walls, every corner of the world, every thought of the soul. Its gruelling face charges with no hints of slowing down.

I dread of being asked how I am as I struggle deeply every time, trying to assemble pieces together into an understandable answer. I like number scales, they make sense to me. I hate words, because I know I can go on for page after page, hour after hour, retelling you the stories of my life. Are they stories? Encounters of my miraculous working mind, how it has become such an unrecognizable part of me when it is solely meant to be the guardian, the lamp that leads the way if I remember correctly.

When lack of motivation meets undying responsibility, when guilt and the superego demands te orders, when a chef’s dream clashes with a teenage struggle, when love is betrayed, promises are broken, hopes get stolen and trust become lies, unspeakable things happen.

Let your imaginations run wild, though reality will always be messier.