Inside a clean room.

For a night, these men and women forgot their woes. They stepped out of their homes. Some even saw the light. The others talked about whatever. I guess everybody talked. I was nowhere, drunk and proceeding as usual, locked inside without any God. Something reminds me that I cannot have peace, that I cannot have what they have. I can have recognition, yes, but not peace. Something keeps coming up. I have grown up in my own, hard way. I cannot ever be entirely clean. I cannot be here even though I want to be here. I am in three places or more at any given time. It’s the path to disappointment. I feel that I have never met myself. Calculus doesn’t help, nor finance, sometimes not even good music or a little walk. Sometimes I wish to leave my home and never return. Sometimes I wish I never went anywhere. More than anything else, I wish I never had this head so I won’t have to write all this.

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