“You’re not doing well and finally I don’t have to pretend to be so interested in your on going tragedy." - Lucas Regazzi
No one seems really interested in listening to your stories, they have there own & they are always looking out for the ones who could listen to there part of the story, & they in desperate attempt to avoid the unnecessary, despite there capability of understanding emotions - limited at times & there reluctant being which could read between the lines ain't going to fill in the blank spaces for you. They are not bothered about your shit, they have there own self adamant shitty-shit & they only live prone to there habitual self-centered moronic-state & are only willing to cling on to the beautiful stories.
You just cant be blabbering all the fucking time - You need to know 'how to shut-up'!
My mind had been weaving a sweater in cold winter months. And not exactly like just another open book, that was kept aside & needed a good read, I was like the headlines of this newspaper story which was being publicized just every other day & being constantly much talked about & yet there was no one listening to it, & if at all anyone heard, or read, they weren't interested. So I decided to keep the talking to my very own self & stay silent.
"The coffee cup that was kept on book had its impression on, for years & would not go, despite how hard I tried scrubbing the stain".
The past, present of the journey has been a mix kind & cruel at the same time! It's like there is something and everything, but still that something and everything seems like nothingness sorts. Me having this fight against all the odds - worried to the core, reasoning to myself about how far shall this go?
For I am only concerned about me - 'the selfish me', like everyone else, wanting things to settle down & get sorted on there own.
This morning I got up, with a dream that woke me up. i don't seem to be interested in anything at all, I've seem to have lost that spark in me that I used to have & I stood like a worthless & aimless one, reasoning my existence. I have been realizing lately that my life starts on the social networking and pretty much ends in there. I guess, I need to buy a cloned version of myself or upgrade myself to a pretty much lively, happier & a functional state, just like everyone else. I've always been a brainy one though my educational qualifications & resume does not show all that and even my experienced soul. I am busy doing nothing, becoming lazy day by day, I am turning into a wondering soul, with no anguish or urge absolutely.
"Life is a Nosy-Noisy bitch - it doesn't let me speak & as the day passes by, I wonder 'Who Let the Dogs Out?' huh...Bow-Wow."
Why am I bring deprived of things, that I could enjoy, I could no more comfort myself because these complexities of harsh realities & anxiety of there outcomes had me all shuffling. I was being scandalized to the core & I could no longer sustain my focus, which seem to have been heading nowhere & fading away. Nothing seemed to be of any value now.
"Talking is often a torment for me, & I need many days of silence to recover from the futility of words".
Should I end up feeling sorry for myself & surrender or should I do something about it - what if there is nothing of undoing the doing? Neither I seem to be on any lookout, nor I seem to be getting any. I am just being a laid-back kinds - avoiding & ignoring the nuances & saying myself to 'Shut The Fuck Up'!. - 35,Anonymous,India
No one seems really interested in listening to your stories, they have there own & they are always looking out for the ones who could listen to there part of the story, & they in desperate attempt to avoid the unnecessary, despite there capability of understanding emotions - limited at times & there reluctant being which could read between the lines ain't going to fill in the blank spaces for you. They are not bothered about your shit, they have there own self adamant shitty-shit & they only live prone to there habitual self-centered moronic-state & are only willing to cling on to the beautiful stories.
You just cant be blabbering all the fucking time - You need to know 'how to shut-up'!
My mind had been weaving a sweater in cold winter months. And not exactly like just another open book, that was kept aside & needed a good read, I was like the headlines of this newspaper story which was being publicized just every other day & being constantly much talked about & yet there was no one listening to it, & if at all anyone heard, or read, they weren't interested. So I decided to keep the talking to my very own self & stay silent.
"The coffee cup that was kept on book had its impression on, for years & would not go, despite how hard I tried scrubbing the stain".
The past, present of the journey has been a mix kind & cruel at the same time! It's like there is something and everything, but still that something and everything seems like nothingness sorts. Me having this fight against all the odds - worried to the core, reasoning to myself about how far shall this go?
For I am only concerned about me - 'the selfish me', like everyone else, wanting things to settle down & get sorted on there own.
This morning I got up, with a dream that woke me up. i don't seem to be interested in anything at all, I've seem to have lost that spark in me that I used to have & I stood like a worthless & aimless one, reasoning my existence. I have been realizing lately that my life starts on the social networking and pretty much ends in there. I guess, I need to buy a cloned version of myself or upgrade myself to a pretty much lively, happier & a functional state, just like everyone else. I've always been a brainy one though my educational qualifications & resume does not show all that and even my experienced soul. I am busy doing nothing, becoming lazy day by day, I am turning into a wondering soul, with no anguish or urge absolutely.
"Life is a Nosy-Noisy bitch - it doesn't let me speak & as the day passes by, I wonder 'Who Let the Dogs Out?' huh...Bow-Wow."
Why am I bring deprived of things, that I could enjoy, I could no more comfort myself because these complexities of harsh realities & anxiety of there outcomes had me all shuffling. I was being scandalized to the core & I could no longer sustain my focus, which seem to have been heading nowhere & fading away. Nothing seemed to be of any value now.
"Talking is often a torment for me, & I need many days of silence to recover from the futility of words".
Should I end up feeling sorry for myself & surrender or should I do something about it - what if there is nothing of undoing the doing? Neither I seem to be on any lookout, nor I seem to be getting any. I am just being a laid-back kinds - avoiding & ignoring the nuances & saying myself to 'Shut The Fuck Up'!. - 35,Anonymous,India
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