everything in its right place

The colours in my head rise above the thoughts like bubbles. Pleasant- not always. I am trying so hard to get a grip on this life. I am holding it tightly in the fist of my palm. Trying to burn down the memory of this labour deep in my head. Someday I want to remember how foolish I had been- trying to spar with an unseen and possibly harmless enemy.

I am sick of stumbling again and again. With each passing day I am getting more unsure of who I am. Is that possible? Isn’t that regressive?

I want to lift my hands in defeat and give in. Apparently, that makes me a quitter. So what is wrong with that? I don’t want to be the one who bothers. There is no point in it. I am sick of wondering about the consequences of what I do and say. I am not that kind of person. Impulses— that’s what rule me. And I am happy with this hypothetical inertia. And then someone comes and tells me that I owe responsible behaviour to society, parents and the most disappointing of all- this world. You basically have then, fucked up my happiness.