I was tired. I was tired of everything. I was tired of telling them how to treat me. I was tired of begging for love. I was tired but no one could see. No one could understand. None could make me happy. I was destroying myself. I no longer wanted to remain in love, or this world or even in my home. I had lost it all but still, I kept on going, hoping that one day, it would be better. One day someone would walk into my life, hold my hands and understand me.... I hoped... But hope is a dangerous thing, it can completely ruin us. Hope is a slow poison and I was no longer interested in poisoning my mind and heart. So I left it behind. After losing it, suddenly all I had was darkness. The world seemed a distant place - a place where I could never be happy. A strange place where I could die in peace but I couldn't live... There was no point in living - with everything happening around the world, my mind was more messy. I could finally understand how the famous artists lose themselves wit...
I write about life experiences, philosophies, idealism, realism, and nihilism. If you find life's meaning in Kafka, Camus, or Nietzsche, you can follow me. I am always a poem Rumi forgot to finish.