In the everyday flow of my life, it's as if I'm sipping on a room-temperature drink where the fizz has disappeared ages ago. The lukewarm vibes of routine seamlessly mix with the tiredness of the daily life, creating a blend of just average. My days are like a dull and unexciting coke, missing the spark of thrill or the coolness of something new. It's a simple tale of being ordinary, a snapshot of life's quiet boredom that, while not super exciting, somehow keeps me going.

-

Do you ever feel so content and in love
that you hope that nothing ever changes, at least for a while,
because it feels like what we have is the most precious thing
and you just want to protect it,
because it feels so perfect and yet so delicate?

-

'But we're now. We grew apart. We know each other, but we barely know each other.'

'But that's not how I want things to be. I want to know you again.'

'Maybe getting to know each other now will only push us farther away.'

'But isn't it still worth a try?'

-

Just because something is the last straw, that doesn't mean that's the only straw.

-

Those pretentious words, like petrichor, soul, melancholy, serendipity and all. You know, the big, cliched ones.
Aren't they like fine china?
Some writers actually got a lot of them and uses them for everything, even day to day conversations, because they can. Like Mr. Tharoor..
Some just use a set of a few particular ones, for a little show off. The snobs.
Some just keep them in the cupboard for special occasions, but never actually use them, because they're too precious to go with everything else they're using, won't fit in even if they use it, it'll always look out of place and forced.
And some writers don't have them or keep them because they know they don't need them. They know that neither good food needs fine china, nor good writing needs pretentious words.

But no one can deny there's something beautiful about both of them, whether it's their intricate design or meaning...

-

Loving someone is hard, especially when you are struggling to love yourself. When counting petals is just a countdown for anxiety to cripple you, when thinking about uncertainty of future feels like wild crowd running around all over the brain as neurons are about to explode, when the cons outweigh the pros and you still cannot decide, when the mind knows what's right for you and the heart doesn't agree, when you know you should walk away but you cannot leave.

-

She never knew
that she got an inner artist,
hidden somewhere
in the corner of her heart,
until YourQuote happened to her.

Now she paints with words.

-

Life is such a gamble.
We place our bets on career, future, love, happiness, people and life. The stakes are high too, from money and time to our trust and our heart. And no one knows what's going to happen. The safest bets are the least rewarding, and the ones with high stakes are too scary. And yet we place the bets, with hope, just hope.

-

that I'm scared to knock.

-

And thus begins my nightly struggle with falling asleep as I instead fall into a rabbit hole of random thoughts...

-