It's been quite some time since I've sat with this typewriter in my lap and earphones plugged in. There's also a music note playing in an alien language which is difficult to interpret. A bit of a comic, how even after all these years, I still choose to sit on this pecan brown framed couch instead of my most favoured corner of this apartment.
Miraculously now, I do not fear the wind touching the arch of my feet. As it staggered my soul once, while I was standing at the top of my surroundings (The author refers to the memoir of her past self that had begged the heavens to be taken away).
A lot still that resides in me - A pacific of people.
At times, I am woven into such an entangled being. I end up forgetting who I actually was. The luminary effect in me does dies but at least now, I have learned to handle things well. Even after such several fallacies, I still love waking up to the birds that won't stop chirping outside my four walled grave. I am not suffering and this is not a hoax.
(This goes out to all who are still trying to stay afloat, even after the flood had washed away the sun from our shores.)
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