Well a little here and a little there, with some ups and downs. Sometimes with the loved ones sometimes for the loved one. It’s a fantasy. 

Especially the winter season. A distinct feel in the air along with coldness that reminding of the years gone by and what used to happen that very moment previous year. 

With the home turned into a sweet cozy hotbox for the coffee addicts. A small little fluffy soft pet who used to care for everyone all the time, even when It was sad. A complete family with occasional visits and dinners and festivals often greeted the month.

Moved to another city, started a new life ,felt a little missing but that was alright. A sudden urge to go back home sometimes shuffles the mind and get torn between emotions and reality. Sometimes music- a particular song or scent reminds of the home and childhood days and a craving from the inside to go back

“Hush, no you can’t. Earn money and make a future ahead” suppress the thoughts and insecurities arise. Complex legacies and lipsmaking exoticism tears the hussle leaving behind confused state of being.

Recovery is a bliss to blend in, to meet new people to talk to and find those whom you are compatible with. Time is not a barrier for a moment and in the next it is. Egos is what it set aparts but is required- an essential essence.

McDonalds – a happy meal is all That can keep someone happy and those brainwashing lectures to attend with a legitimate reason-“to impart skills” is bullshit. An aggressiveness builds up over time and lurking the need to compare with one another. 

Conflicts to set in on petty issue. Loneliness. No fluent glides of senses, just a show off battleground. Think of the time now what it used to be , to watch cartoons, a sweet smelling garden with wind whistling through the ears, the butterfly, the not-so-hot sunshine. 

A life cycle to remember and so much to explore, how to see this without going alone. I fear to go out alone for what might people think . 

There’s no audience, just a little someone with a little dream and a small piggybank his mother gave. 

A surppp! Of coffee and the crunch of biscuit stablizes the momentum and snaps the reader back to reality.


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