Paint a Portrait of My Mystery

Human idiosyncrasies are so interesting. It’s like saying, “It’s bright.” When it so obviously is. It’s like, eavesdropping when you don’t mean to, but you do because you’re there. It’s like saying, “Don’t worry.” And then you start doing things that makes a person worry anyway.

It’s frustrating. And then you don’t know the real reason you’re frustrated. It’s a deep ache inside that cannot be defined. It’s human.

Some days, it’s beautiful, nothing can get you down. It’s the people that matter. And then the darkness comes, and you’re struggling to climb back up and sometimes you wonder, “Who needs them?” I think it’s painful to realize that you never had anyone and now that you have, it’s crazy scary because you never know what you will say or do that will drive them away.

Because you’re meant to be alone, trying to fit into an ideal you that everyone doesn’t know and assumes they do. Someone that they think they know, someone you don’t even know nd love and yet someone does. that someone you’ve yet to meet and yet you know, and yet, you doubt. Briefly, sometimes.

Then you wonder, is it worth it? Is the culture more important? What defines us humans? To humble ourselves and to seek something so obviously true? Or to be as diverse and colourful and wonderful and unique as we humans only can. Because we’re different, we’re building something so strange and delightful from this multitude of colours. I never know who to tell about this, because no one will understand.

Even if  ask the one who does, I think I will never understand the answer.

You know of stories where girls dream of castles and princesses and worlds away. Anne of Green Gables perhaps? People who creates worlds in their minds. Some write them down. If you do know me, you’ll know I’ve worlds in my head. Worlds I’ll probably never pen down, despite the fact that worlds were built and torn, people killed off and revived, and love lost and found. I’m weird, because I know that the only language I can only pretend to understand and speak is also one of them languages frequently passed around in my head.

Do they matter? Time is running out, and time sometimes can be so profound.

When you walk down the street, do you look at the sky, and think. “Someone out there is dying right now.”

Will you ever understand someone else? A best friend? Or will there never be a time for me? :)

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