i tell people to follow the call of the wind. i tell them what messages can be gleaned from the stars about their fates. i point them to the path as shown by the lines of their palms. i show them what happiness and bliss there are to be had if, for once, they listen to their hearts.
here i am, fully aware that this is not what i want, to one day realized that all that is left of my optimism is a dessicated core. that my soul has languished and died a silent death, leaving my body with an empty shell. that my dreams have flown to visit somebody else’s thoughts. that i am part of the body count of people who, after a couple of years or three, wander around the metropolis with a glazed stare and shallow desires born out of a materialistic unaffirming profit-oriented culture.
inside of me, i cry and scream and rankle about the unfairness of all of this. still, it was my choice to be here. and it is still my choice whether i want to stay longer or not.
just wait. my paper boat’s not ready yet.
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