Invisible

This post does not exist, I am assuming that no one is reading, so if you see me, pretend like you have no clue.

It's a pretend, it's strong infront of them, I worry about their worries. They are worried. One doesn't notice much, thinks it's going smooth, or semi smooth. The second is quite aware but not seeing through. Better for the second, it's less heart tiring.

Talks, talks, talks, forever. Talks like incessant verbal catharsis. A point comes when I have no clue what is said, what I said, or what I heard. A point comes where talks run in continuous streams, mixed with fake smiles. Talks that go long, with short mixes and a long hollow inhale. Tired. A materialistic world.

A day is a 24 hour, whether the mornings, the inbetween class minutes, the walk down the stairs, off the car, to the library, one's car, the cafeteria, at home, the white room, the kitchen, in bed, even in the dreams, the wake ups at 4 am, or 6 am, the before sleep time, the chats, or the on road music. A day is a 24 long tiring hours.

Does it seem like a joke: not liking to hear the song? or feel the vibes? I've had this urge of wanting to throw it off the window. Hear it smash to the floor, See it shattered into pieces.

I want silence, complete, I don't want any attention, any little bit of caring. I don't want the holidays to come, the eve, the new year, or the birthday. I pray a big snow or heavy rain or something on the day, a stay in bed away from everything. I wish a vanish sometime. Don't force things on me, I force them myself.

Running away from reality used to be coming to My World. A place where no one would force a word on me, my thoughts are my free space, everything runs under my rules, no one is to tell me my right from wrong. My World is my refuge, my place, my judges, a place where there is no materialism.

A moment when you don't really feel who you're talking to, but you just talk and talk, while one is simply typing on the keyboard, and suddenly notices the drops and rushes to remove them.

A moment when you simply can't stop running away from the thoughts and you surrender to the shut door in you, you open it and there you go, all the gulps and inhales you've been suppressing for long.

Why should you tell.... they heard enough.

A moment when the world seems so tight on you, as much spacious the world seems, it's only tight on you.