Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

sometimes to stay alive, you gotta kill your mind.

"We sail within a vast sphere, ever drifting in uncertainty, driven from end to end."
- Blaise Pascal


Fist out.
The race was about to begin.

Running towards the end was a collaborative effort.
It always took two hands to clap.
It always took two minds to think alike.
It always took two hearts to be as one.

As the gun shot rang in the air,
the race had begun.

Within a split second,
one was running ahead
while the other was behind
panting and gasping for air.

The one ahead slowed down,
took the hand of the crying one.
Don't give up,
we're almost there.

Perspiration dripped over the ground,
the willpower taking over.

Within a split second,
the one stopped crying
and picked up speed,
determined to reach the end.

The one who was once ahead
started to feel tired
for the run seemed to take forever
and it never seemed to reach an end.

Hand out.
The race was to continue.

Running slowly towards the end,
the one who was ahead now slowed down,
and offered a hand,
grabbing the other along.

As the silence was replaced with pants,
dehydration and lethargy began to swarm in.

Where was the end?
What exactly was the end?
Was there a need to be having a race?
Was there a need to run to an end?

For the end might not be the best place to be.
For the end might not be what was expected.

once again.

What exactly was the race for?
Was there anything to prove out of it?

Could the running not be for the sake of running?
Could the running not be for the sake of emotions?

Could the running not be for the sake of completing something?
Could the running not be for the sake of reaching the end?


Process this.

Process the process.
Process the outcomes.
Process the journey, not the end.
Process the procession.

It's all in the head,
it's all in the mind.


I'm trying to sleep.
But I can't, but I can't,
when we won't have guns for hands.



it will not sleep and I guess I'll sleep when I'm dead.
and sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head.


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