There is something about noise. Sitting alone in a crowded cafe with all the chatter in the background. But feeling strangely empty.
Watching the couple in front of me, both seem transfixed by their phone screens, smiling to themselves. And then there’s the girl next to me, sipping a cup of latte, alone, reading Lord of the Flies. As i’m typing this, I realise how fast everything is moving. Is there a stop button on this thing? Something needs to be done. Cinderella has to rush back. The ball has to stop. The dance has to cease. The momentous love has to stop. And I can’t keep up.
Reality hits me like gulping down six cups of espresso in one go. Overdosed.
How art today is so diluted and misconceived, you can no longer define it. Life in itself is one big caricature. Everything and everyone seems so superficial. We take whatever we have in front of us as it is and leave it at that, then we move on. On to the next one. We take a photo and post it on instagram with the caption #deep
I don’t know about the rest, but I think I’m beginning to lose the plot here. If everything is going to be ‘subjective’, why even try? It is tiring. *beep/vibrates* a whatsapp message from my friend pops up. Gotta run.