The dirty yet never cleaned keyboard of my computer, and the pile of draft paper full of formulas of various subjects that don't interest me, the closed curtain, the fan that was moaning until I closed it with impatience, aren't far from the nature outside, where the clash of molecules is interpreted as dance. The inaudible breeze smells evil under the slightly-lit brown of sky - that instantly reminds me of an ancient necropolis, full of dead bodies that were still fighting with each other before the sky had darkened. Fearless little insects are whistling in the background, as if nothing has ever happened. Yes! They are right. None of the things in the morning has happened. The cars departing from their garages in the morning only to return at night. Moguls, beggars, workers, coffee or without coffee, cancer or without cancer, wandering towards their aim aimlessly. The intensity of their insists always delights me, like I laugh and laugh at those who were amazed by an anencephalic show.
Air on this side of the window is not different at all from that of the other side. Yet to me it dignifies something. As I always long for the moment when nothing weighs on me and have never succeeded, my perception has been stereotyped by something I considered safe and reassuring. The door of my apartment is no different from that of the prison. Yet to me, the former means freedom. Just like how I lured an innocent family into believing me, life has deceived me with its irresistible hypocrisy.
I feel trapped without being so, feel homeless while having a home, and feel sad when the smile unfurls. I gasp and wake up in the middle of the night, with a tired and desperate head for expressing. I'm downloading games on Steam - that's the only reason I'm writing. I've never overcome my inertia, for I was sliding without friction, inexorably towards the abyss of peace and oblivion.
The symphony millimeters outside culminated as a sudden silence overwhelmed the close but unreal fields in front of my apartment building. Without seeing I saw, without hearing I heard, that the banner in the morning was never lowered. But I don't care, my reason stifles the occasional inconvenience of my sensibility - I'm still preparing for my exams, playing computer games, and trying to make everything before death a bit more different. I constrain myself in order to enjoy a flash of liberation, and then I re-constrain myself, awaiting another happenstance that happens to be my redemption.
The world is filled with empty souls - but at least to the souls, the world is full.
