Believe me when I say it. Three bad days in a row is totally unlike two bad days in a row. By the third day, you stop caring. You become eerily quiet. You utter words but only in response. You wouldn’t want to say anything of your own will. And your responses are to the point, nothing more. For everything else, you just nod or smile. It’s your way of telling the world, ‘That’s all you’re gonna get from me.’ Earlier, I used to keep fighting for a week or so. Now, it isn’t so. Now, I prefer to stay quiet, do my shit, refrain from picking up a fight (as much as possible), go home and write some shit. That’s all I care about now – to write something every fucking day, doesn’t matter how bad the day went. I’ve seen worse, no doubt. But this is a new kind of worse. Please note that whatever I am writing is just my observation. I do not complain ever. I have not a single complaint. You know why? Because I chose this. I chose all of this. I have put myself through all of this just to squeeze something out of myself. I am not so sure if there’s anything left in me anyways. But that doesn’t stop me from digging.
Outside, no rain, surprisingly. Better to have no rain than to have an awful lot. For now, a cup of coffee. There’s a night waiting to begin.
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