Living Hell

I woke up today and listened to the birds outside.  There were crows and pigeons croacking instead of the sparrows and the songbirds singing. Smoke filled the sky, the gloomy grey replacing the brilliant blue.

Which Google form did we fill to sign up for this hell? 



I spend my days wandering through realities;
Trying to stretch my arm across the walls that separate my existence and fatality.
Looking through glass windows into possibilities that hold so much weight in them-
To manipulate the entire course of a lifetime.
In a lot of these sequences, you feature as the lead.
In the space around me I’ve created with walls, built by the brick,
I’m alone and free to fantasise; go meandering into streams of my thought.
There’s no place here for anyone.
Except you.
There’s nowhere else I’d rather have you be.


“A fantasy, within a fantasy; ironic isn’t it?”
“Yes, but every time I think of you, the tornado of my imagination sucks me along in a whirlpool, spinning me around. I can’t help but lose myself in the debris of my own creation.”

One Late Evening

Stand at the terrace alone, look up and in that exact moment you will know how our lives have become so self sustained, so isolated. We are all alone, but together. Our smartphones have condensed the whole universe to fit into a screen, and that is more than enough for a lot of people. Everyone is making haste to get somewhere, to get something. We forget that there are things beyond and above. Above ourselves, beyond our understanding.

The lights of all the four rooms in the apartment are on. One for each member, separately. There is no laughter in the evening hour; no boisterous ten year olds running around chasing each other. They’re probably stuck doing homework. Watching TV, consumed in a tablet or a mobile phone, fingers tapping on a screen. There are the screams of a couple fighting across from the apartment where I live, and then there is a ghostly silence which almost makes me hold my breath. I am afraid that he is going to hurt her. He hurts her. Almost fifty feet away, his words hurt me.

I am here, stuck staring at the 3 am smoky sky, seeing the city lights desceding it’s purple into orange, wondering whether the stars disappeared because no one made time to look up anymore.