"Welcome to my world", a friend said. I told him that I wasn't in the mood to talk, and I was struggling to find the source of my sudden burst of loneliness. I thought hard and realized that the problem was simple: I wasn't in control of an incident which is nothing of importance.(weird)
People call it manic depression, bipolar disorder, or plain insanity:I call it soul searching. Reading Veronika Decides to die for the 3rd time, I can't help but admire the way Coelho created a world of a woman trying to rationalize her being by killing herself (which I really disagree in all aspects of life). Fortunately, she was placed in a care of the mental asylum, which was more sane than the world outside.
I have no intention of going to a fictional mental clinic, but I'm in that state right now. Floating in midair, thinking of astral projection to a place away from my body. This started because of a simple statement which I heard few minutes ago.
Welcome to my world, echoes in my ear again. This, too, will pass.
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