You go to bed with incomplete answers, uncooked questions and ambiguous conclusions.
And you promise yourself a beauty sleep.
You let your self surrender to sleep only when you leave your self exhausted.
Exhausted not with anyone, but self.
You threaten that little devil inside you to shut up,
Because it constantly makes you impatient whilst things around are completely normal.
But fuck it.
It doesn’t allow you to enjoy normal.
It’s like those parents who have imagined a different life, a different career for you. And hence, ending up making you feel regretful about everything else you do.
While in real is translucent for you.
Because you keep your eyes open to everything in front of you.
But your mind only agrees to open to that fancy land you think you deserve.
That fancy place which you think someone else has occupied.
Unfair it is, it seems to you.
You know you are alone in a square room and the only minor distraction could be the sound of your own breathing or maybe heartbeat.
Heartbeat, the only sound which makes you feel alive, remember?
Having silence around,
You still feel the urge to shout and ask for silence to know one else
But those voices in your head which never seem to go to rest.
You know they are your own
You know you are their part but then again things we own are the ones we find faults into.
But conclusions aren’t what they want you to make.
They are saying things about you. Which are new for you to discover each day
But there is some guilt in your heart. Hence they irritate you.
And this chaos remains a chaos because them voices are ahead of you.
You cant stand them because you aren’t the winner, they are.
And then suddenly you realise something which you will definitely forget in the morning,
Your whole life is a race,
Not with anyone else but with yourself, these voices, voices of the soul.