You, I see you.

You, glare, you, cringe, you, silent laughing and walking away.

There you are going back to pretending you are not amused by the sudden change in a crowd you feel estranged by.

You, subjective objectifier.

You hate the laws of physics, you hate formulas, anything exact, anything that doesn’t allow you to leave fingerprints for an answer.

Multiple choice exams are excruciating, you try to find a hidden message between equations, you are certain that exponents and roots have nothing to say to to you.

Still, you’ve always had this thing for discovering imaginary riddles in things that don’t want to hold a conversation.


You introverted social creature, you Kafkian character.

You, make-believe sociologist

You, dream catcher, dream-let-go-er .

You, you thought things would turn out differently, didn’t you?

You thought the answers would’ve emerged with the experience acquired, you believed the promises of blue elders…

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