I’m not a best writer. So many, maybe, a handful of talents, but nevertheless, I am not one of them!
Why cheapen life by trying so hard to fit in. If I’m not meant to fit in then I’m meant to stand out!
I feel like a tiny little ladybug yelling and shouting at the top of her tiny lungs, but a crowded world so large, no one can hear me. With all this bustling, marriage vows, parties, yelling, screaming, talking, and walking, I will never be heard.
I’m like a Salvador Dali painting, sinking deep into the ground, melting by the touch, but seemingly okay, seemingly vigilant or strong, despite the screaming disparity that lies within. My energy is melting, just like the weather reminds us all of problems to come. How futile our emotions, so easily manipulated, and so easily won over. Imagine, 7 more million added to the current growing population. Just imagine the lines in cafes growing so large, a revolt takes place instead. It is the age of revolt.