My Crooked Stupid Little Life

It is always happen to me when I have many things to be written, it will just vanish without any clear interventions. It halts. It is augmenting the superficial thoughts I’d withdrawn a few fortnights beforehand. It is like an undressed girl trembling herself arguing about her existence and the self-despoilment and the whereabouts the occurrence of her nudity. Like I had experienced just now, the mind boggled with a pool of unfiltered ideas, it tried defiantly to channel the thoughts to people around, but it was rather persistent and reluctant to be perceived. It feels like a big gigantic balloon bloating inside your tummy and waiting to be burst out. It is horrifying to think about the possibility but the real thing could be happened and for some reasons it couldn’t be avoided.

Life floats like a bubble in open air. When the wind blows, it pushes you to the top, when the heat goes, your life will sink until you drop.

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