S•ul-(e)-Fight In Bud-Land

So sober and miserable. And that’s when I realized I’m still where I started. Over the years I’ve learnt that life happens to massively alternate between ecstasy and melancholy, while dwelling unambiguously on cynicism towards every aspect in life. Such misery induces ripples deep in your chest by inflicting completely faint-faded memories while thwarting the will to see the greener side. Why do we tend to recall all the misery when we’re amidst the process of being happy? Are we ever really content?

The real question is why do we vex ourselves during these times of transition when we don’t know where all this is coming from or going to? We’re broken, unreal and dead. Are we supposed to feel agonized or blessed, for, our hearts being pumping the red. Distressfully, the very same faint numbing throb of the soul never relinquishes us of this catastrophe, resulting in stifling the heart and mind, experiencing agony that merely exists to such extent.

Even if you managed to escape one cage, weren’t you just in another, larger one?- Haruki Murakami

Are all of us looking for some kind of an escape? Is happiness just an illusion to attain closure?

Or have we become psyched enough to reflex, replicate and wander through the same curved roads on the mountain ride to misery which makes it much easier?

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