Reach out and Breathe
Lamentation
I’ve started jotting down my thoughts, trying to decipher how I truly feel about people, things, and life itself. At times, it all seems like an elaborate play, a facade crafted to imbue existence with meaning, pushing forward while clinging to a belief in some higher purpose.
My mind wanders incessantly; sometimes it fixates on her, and I struggle to let go. Other times, thoughts of mortality bring a strange sense of tranquility. I find myself in a place where distinctions blur — between right and wrong, good and evil. Every truth uttered aloud feels like a calculated deception to placate the masses.
Surrounded by those who seek solace in the quiet desperation of life, devoid of meaning and hope, I am reminded of the intrinsic value that often goes unnoticed. Wealth blinds us to the richness of existence — its people, its experiences, its institutions.
Amid it all, I realized that happiness was never elusive — it was always present, woven into the fabric of my surroundings. And yet, it felt like I was chasing a dream, grasping at shadows, trying to find fulfillment in a world that often forgets the beauty of simplicity and innocence. In the depths of quiet desperation, I felt how important it is for someone to reach out and breathe.
