The monotonous life we are living right at this moment of time, with everything so inconsistent, irregular and dull. There are some unnoticed pleasures we rarely caught ourselves sinking in. About the way, we always keeps on finding ways to escape...
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We all are here and yet we are lost. Maybe we prefer this paradox and chose it to be this way, only. Isn't it? Instead of us allowing ourselves to live gracefully here, we already are venturing into the unknown, for too long and even not so unexpectedly unawared. We chose to devour ourselves into the rhythms of the musical notes or maybe into the splashing vibrancy of the colours instead. Or maybe into the hidden notes of our daily diaries we tend to keep with. Or the vivid structures we prefer creating in the old journals with thousands memories stored so delusionally and diligently. We find ways to escape. Be it about those stare glances we give to the mimicking creatures around us. Or the escape we pretend to find in those miniature surroundings surrounding us. We are constantly tired. Tired of everything and maybe everyone around us, except the consistent methods to let ourselves skip these perfect patterns, into something irregular, something inconsistent but something more diligent to us. Sometimes we skip playlists, and shifts ourselves up from pop to indie, sometimes we are hurt but not broken. Sometimes we are so accompanied by pain, that we feel nothing without a pinch of it in everything we feel. We feel depressed and cling to poetries. We feel lonely and start to guard ourselves with the stars and moons up there. We tirelessly can stare both at a blank wall or even at a wall with climbers climbing it all with autumn colours, shining itself up with the aura of golden and reddish maples capable of capturing ourselves, with us being in a constant awe of startled emotions. We make things, we mess things. We are homes to ourselves. Sometimes so mended sometimes unexpectedly so broken. Apart of everything, in the last, we chose ourselves to stay. With all this art With all this escape With all this pain With all these unfortunate escapes/
