Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

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

I've got no time to kill.

"Death is really a great blessing for humanity, without it there could be no real progress. People who lived forever would not only hamper and discourage the young, but they would themselves lack sufficient stimulus to be creative."

— Alfred Adler


Gather around the center of town, an important announcement is about to be made.

All attendance is compulsory, and for those who do not attend shall unfortunately be sent to exile. The compliant ones shall receive the message with pride, and be rewarded with an honourable surprise at the end of the message.

We shall then await the grand entrance of the almighty to begin the speech with ecstatic anticipation. No enthusiasm shall not be contained in this convention and no act of anarchy shall be exhibited.

The bona fide statement to be bestowed upon all equal beings will shortly commence. All hail the almighty!


To all the fair ladies and average gentlemen present today in this memorandum. Thou shalt thoroughly listen to this message of great importance.

No one shall be spared. Grab everyone to the dungeon of pain and lock them there for this period of time. Every single one of the people who are alive, breathing, and considered a living thing. Everyone has to learn, but learning on it's own doesn't allow for a break. Throw them in anyway, and let them run around the four walls all day in hope of finding an escape. Leave no light for them. Everyone has to find their own way around the dungeon. Space within the four walls are finite, but they need to go through it on their own. They need to experience the loss of light to realise that maybe the Sun wasn't doing its job well. They need to encounter the tormenting fear of the dark to question about how the Sun might not have even existed before. Nobody is allowed to leave the palce, they either struggle or they can dissipate away. The acts of kindness are misinformed and often neglected as nobody would be able to see it. An experience, or even an attempt at empathy, would not holistically resolve any problem; for the problem itself can't be seen. Everything has to be felt, and no one is spared of anything at all until their last breath inside the dungeon. It is not imprisonment, there is still a ope of light somewhere. As for that hope, everybody has to find it on their own some way or another. It is simply the failure of drive to survive within the hollow space that eventually kills them. While it is a pity to see the instinctual response of loss is likely to be a choice between fight or flight, the inevitable fact is that the loss ignites a flame of negativity that shines so brightly inside the dungeon and yet nobody would be able to see it. Strip everyone, nobody will bring into the dungeon anything they own. Not even the memories they hold dearly shall be permitted to them, it has to feel like an awakening. Only the naive will survive in the literal world within the four wall, clutching on to the little knowledge of survival and running until they realise they need to stop. All the mockery of negativity—even the slightest pinch of it sensed within this passage as it is being read out—will cease to exist inherently without retaliation. No one is given a choice under any circumstance. No one is to blame the circumstance; no one is to be spared of self-blaming. Here is the greatest bit of the announcement where I will not be personally escorting any individual involved into the dungeon. Everyone is rewarded with that luxury of being hidden away from the possibility of snide remarks or sniggers along the way. A huge thank you to all those who have paid attention to every relevant part of this announcement which is felt to be easy to relate while maintain ignorance towards every thing else being implied. Have a good one, everybody. Wishing success upon survival of the terrors in the dungeon, the emptiness of the darkness, and the hysteria trapped within the four walls; may the strongest, toughest, bravest, and most confident ones fail and sway away from the notion of a rewarding life.


Replenish. Relinquish. Regain.
Revival from misguidance and disappearance.

Loss. An indescribable feeling of unpleasantness that perhaps even a wordsmith might see difficulty in expressing. It allows room for deliberation on the necessity of communication on its own. What the disclosure might prove would not assert any form of accurate emotions nor indicate the acceptance or even the mere acknowledgement of its painful existence.

Distraction continues to be worthy of its name as the degree of blindsightedness increases. The meaning cannot be looked up in a dictionary; its invaluable to describe the feeling of unknowingly succumbing to everything to fate and taking all chances to make a grand exit. But is it all worth?

Bliss. A word that is used far too easily to describe an expression of euphoric contentment. If an entire day's worth of adventure could be accompanied with a live narration of exact thoughts and distinctive feelings with absolute precision, the search for bliss would cease almost immediately.

In fact, blissfulness and the search for its existence could be written into a book of understatement which nobody would bother to take a second look or even take a first flip. While it is nearly assumable that bliss would row along the river and dock by the pier conveniently where one is standing at. Fate of any sort is not bestowed among the weak-minded who believe that mindfulness could be a prospective investment in clearing out the darker side within.

Embrace destiny. Erase calamity.
Envision a tragic empowerment of adversity.


Destruction is formidable.
The wars don't allow for the vulnerable to choose.

Faltering courage is the first sign of weakness.
The cover-up of such—without the acknowledgement of it—would eventually lead to the indiscriminate reveal. Unveil the discomposure on full display. No remorse is felt by the haughty and ignorant. The despondence is blatantly plastered over the realists who discover that any form of appeal towards a fantasised possibility.

Heightened sense of clarity in misinformed strategising is the second. Urgency towards finding a certainty, which is so predictably clear to escalate into a flag raising ceremony of a white table cloth, would be apparent in full view. Rejected failure could potentially develop into a choice of self-destruction as an easier alternative to merciful soul-searching being granted upon a simple act of "giving up".

We can't always stop the destructive.
Trying to remove the thorns from a cactus only results in pricking your fingers instead.


If I carried all the responsibilities in my chest on my own, I would have suffocated.

I've considered the aspect of change in its core element of choice. To be more precise, I've contemplated the value of chance and the underlying meaning behind change that would have made it worth it.

Once again, I reiterate the fact that I like to think a lot of things. Often asking myself an endless series of questions—some of which are irrelevant and the cause of opportunity cost; but I contemplate severely on the whole notion of change. The change that should stem from within the undeniable truth about perspective. It's always about the perception of choice; insightful aspirations to incite decisions

Instead of doing every single thing which I wish I was capable of, I stopped to think about what wouldn't have been expected of me—what others would have wanted from me; what others would have wanted me to do; what I would have wanted from me—and realised that it is extremely excruciating to attempt to keep every single breathing and non-breathing human around me pleased and contented with whatever I was doing or wherever I was standing at.

Instead of doing every single bit of that—placing myself in deliberation of self-expectations and the expectations of others which I conveniently place upon myself—and just making the easiest choice of running away, or even seeking death, I stop grieving over everything that's lost and I ask myself about what he/she would have wanted from me.

He wouldn't have wanted me to be unhappy. She wouldn't have wanted me to cry over her. He would have wanted me to regain my independence. She would have wanted me to do everything I could in the best interests of myself. He wouldn't have wanted me to climb into a burning house to save the children inside. She wouldn't have wanted me to feel like a hero over every single accomplishment of getting over grief. He would have wanted me to save myself. She would have wanted me to do anything for myself on my own accord—simply because I wanted to and not because I needed to.


At the end of the day, the ball doesn't have to be in anybody's court because the ball does not exist.
At the end of the day, the existence of the ball is negligible as the court does not exist.
At the end of the day, the existential possibility of court game is dispensable.
At the end of the day, each person still chose a side of the court.


I know the sun's still shining.



But when I get home,
Baby I will.


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