This is a safe space for me to speak my mind, my thoughts intertwined inside a helix of parallel decisions that come from the ability to overthink.

Times and how they have been...

Times are changing, I try to keep firm, calm, still, but there's always something that feels incomplete.

I don't know if I am the only one with this problem, I suppose not, I'm not unique.

Self-love is the new trend that keeps on hogging up the internet these days every Mary, and Tom in their 20s-30s with their two breakup stories or heck say none.. will advise you to practice but how does that stack up...

I have no idea.

I tried being stoic, I tried meditations, but nothing seemed to materialize into actionable efforts.

Efforts...Efforts..Efforts...

A vain and typsy thought that makes you work so hard and be a great procrastinator at the same time that you just wanna give up.

But, you can't give up. You'll have people to come back to when you're home. It may be your parents today, tomorrow maybe your dear spouse, your beautiful children... or maybe someone else

The ever-shouldered weight of the world that I have created in my minds keeps me moving...

But still, there are times I just want to give up....

Leave everything and go to a calm place....

But, where I don't know.

Am I the batman?

Well, funny enough I haven't watched that movie.

But, I know people being Batman in their imaginary movie called Life. And it's a beautiful distraction.

Very few people ever get to think about what they want to really do in life.

The Lone wolfs, they say are the most wounded creatures you will ever meet in life.

How does that stack up?
If nothing's real?
You wanna be a Batman,
You gotta study the skill.

Well, then how empty have you ever felt?

The author of this discordant and incoherent write-up was never good at anything.

He knows something about a lot of things but has no depth for anything.
He desires to have someone to hold hands with when the dusk settles, and the night falls and wants to speak to them non-stop...

He doesn't like small talk, nor does he get to be heard when he tries one. He cherishes moments spent. He is not very emotional in decisions but is still a child at heart who spares no strings that past ever left in his hands though broken...

He never missed home but never enjoyed his freedom...
He likes stories, but never mustered the courage to read one...
He has no hobbies. ...
Nothing interesting to do. ...
Life is an eternal boredom to him.

He gets lots of compliments for his wit,
When he gets to use it,
But no one nears him. ...
He never liked movies. ...
His favourite pastime is being with himself alone. ...

He's got no hobbies,
He occasionally picks up a pen. ...
He's no poet or writer of sorts.
He occasionally rhymes up there and then. ...

That's how empty he's been. ...

He doubts his existence,
He's anxious, weary of what's to come. ...
He's always missed the finish line. ...

He never completed what he began.
He keeps starting afresh from where he began,
He's ought to be the Scipio Africanus. ...
He ends a Hannibal he knows. ...

He's always nostalgic.
He doubts if he's ever got to make it.

That's how empty he feels. ...
That's how life for him has always been.

He never had friends,
He played on his own.
When the storms broke,
He steered the ship on his own,
He's always been alone.
He's never afraid of it.

But sometimes it takes a toll on him,
Bit by bit...