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A day in the life...

I know now how it starts. It feels like today is a holiday. Like everyone goes to work to BE shallow, like a ritual. It feels like everything you do seems like a dream. And everything that someone else does seems like an idea. A concept. A concept like what if life was like this. This mundane state of existence where everyone believes that life has a purpose and that till you do not realize it, all you can do is be pushed around by it (life). As I write this, I feel a distinct drain of energy. All images, all masks... Everything that conceals the dark, gray innards, all being lifted. Setting free the rain clouds to hover and unleash their torrents.

It feels like a holiday.  At first a pleasant, lightness of being. Like everything is a dream. Like you are invulnerable. Indestructible. And then you begin to sense the dissatisfaction of eternal satisfaction. Like there is no purpose. There is no reason. There is no life. Just persistence. Like you have aged a million years in a span of a few hours. Physically, it feels fine. Great even! But mentally and emotionally, it feels like you are God playing and replaying the same game. Countless restarts, little variety of characters, but the same game.

It started as a holiday and now it feels like an immersive, series of flashes between fake societies, loneliness and melancholy love. Like swirling around in a ball room filled with faces pasted with forced smiles. Like sitting in an inescapable 4 by 4 room with one grilled window. Light warming your back as you sit on the floor, curled up in a ball. Like living in a world of magical love and endless sorrow...

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