Pretentious Ramblings

 I asked my homemade god, how can I grasp the strings that make up the fabric of the universe? They said It's straightforward, don't try.  From the meaningless time my conscious has spent in this universe, I have understood that the notion of the ordinary is irrelevant. The laws of physics, which might be the truth in our tiny home, may not be valid anywhere else.  Sometimes, I wonder if my musings hold any meaning. Perhaps it does. But the more I think about it, the more I realise that the universe is meaningless. Its native state is nothingness. It is us, intruders who are searching for meaning in a sea of nothingness. There is no need to look for a purpose. Our pursuit is inconsequential. One can try looking at life with rose coloured glasses in pursuit of immortality. However, this strives to be relevant in futile. Unfortunately, humans give themself's way too much relevance.  This is my personal brand of humour- knowing people who believe their words and actions...

 Reaching out to the sky, I am not in equilibrium; the world is twisted, and I am on a ship. The chaos and confusion inside my mind the opposite of my face. Pretentious, pretending to be something it is not. I do not own this face, and I cannot control it either. It has a mind of its own, different than that of my hands, my heart. Words flow freely from my fingers, like a young river breaking the barrier between my heart and face, a river of tears streaming down my face. Yet I am here, unbreakable. There are no breaks in my armour. It is vital, unfazed. The pandemonium inside is held in chains. I will not crack; I will not be defeated. I have the strength to be true to myself. I am a river of tears, a wave of sadness I will engulf the painted face, yet here is stand, unbreakable, unyielding. The winds of rage carry the wings of my heart, meandering, poking at the dollface. Smile. Do not show weakness. Anarchy is the antagonist that drives the hands, creating a spew of nonsense. My ...

 I keep dreaming about you. I do not know why. Who are you? Why are you prancing around in my subconscious? What knowledge are you withholding? Tell me. I am but a reflection of myself. I exist in your mind; I live in your reality. I am a figment of your imagination. I am a traveller; I keep seeing you. Under a shady tree, on the train, I have seen you cry alone. I have seen you meandering across your mind. Tell me, where are you going? Why are you always at my destination before me? How can you tell me about my hegira?  I have seen you, I have seen you before. I saw you yesterday and the day before. I keep seeing your face. It is breathtaking. I cannot seem to get your visage out of my eyes. You have bewitched me, my wretched heart. I have seen you painted in a multitude of colours, breathing life into my banal world. You seem like a different person every day; your eyes are the same. I know it is you. The moment I look at you, I know it is you. I have been pondering. I have ...