To What, Imperfections.

We are so divorced from the cinema of life that the reality of it all plagues us. We could’ve made our own constructions and find peace in the meanings that we identify with. However, we chose not to find happiness in our depravity and keep on collating those relics of what a “real” life is.

Yesterday, a friend of mine left a door ajar for me to see through this façade. I could see the human melancholy from a distance and understand how it has nothing to do with depravity. That friend of mine proved it that we can make sense of who we are or what we have become without grieving upon what all we lost in this process. Loss will never let you go, but you can let go of what it represents in a “real” world.

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