✩₊˚.⋆ 𝐱𝐯𝐢𝐢 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫. ⋆⁺₊✧

i try to pull myself together and pick up the scattered jigsaw pieces of me lying all around.

life breeds both plentitude and void, exuberance and depression. what are we when confronted with the interior vortex which swallows us into absurdity? i feel my life cracking within me from too much intensity, too much disequilibrium.

mostly, she saw what could be succinctly described as frivolous normalcy: day-to-day happenings—from waking in the morning to dying in the night. all cycles: all over and gone.

i would like to go mad on one condition, namely, that i would become a happy madman, lively and always in a good mood, without any troubles and obsessions, laughing senselessly from morning to night.

how did he feel when he found out i'd suddenly disappeared? relieved, maybe? confused? or maybe nothing at all. i'm betting he hasn't even noticed i'm gone.

through rainy days (and sunny days), i wait for you.