There's a point in life where everything just fucking happens.
'Home', a place you thought you knew so well, so complete, so safe ,so sedentary, individual warm feelings that you're home. You knew every cracks on the wall and uneven surfaces, fammiliar marbles of floor that crack, family photos and every faces with lukewarm fammiliarity.
Now it's just a fucking place where I put my shit and live in it with no meaning, no such purposes but to have shelter on your head and a bed to hibernate. Because if you say you have a family but you have no parents, you're a fucking delusional.
I'm just a star that made out from a cardboard hanging with plastic strings. I got nowhere to hang and I am lost in the wind.
I know and I try so hard to understand that we all had a design.If my life is design to be this way I just had to draw the way out of this
frustration, well at least, to keep sanity or not to blow my head.
Life is a shitholes shades of grey and I frequently ask why to a simple answer
