bicycleofthoughts

One day, I will have a girlfriend. One day, I will love somebody. The person I love will be smarter than me. The person I love will be cooler than me. The person I love will be happier than me. That person is so hard to exist. But there is a chance. And the chance that she will love me back is even less. But there is hope. Hope, haha! Hope is a joke though. Why do I hope? Why is it necessary to hope for me? Can’t I live without hoping.?There will be no expectations. No desire. No pain of not meeting expectations. No pain of non-fulfilment of desire.

For years, I have been called “not normal”. There comes a time after which you start believing it too. And nobody is telling you otherwise. It just gets reinforced in you. And then you get torn apart between being normal and being different. What is the better choice? What I know is that the grass will always be greener on the other side.

Sometimes I am left wondering who the fuck am I telling these things. Nobody. Even if somebody read it, they wouldn’t care. They can’t relate to it. Probably. Those who care about me, my family,; I won’t show it to them. It’s not like I want to die. There are just no reasons to live. So why not just die? Because there are no reasons to die either. No reasons for anything. No reasons for writing this post. Still I am writing it. Maybe it’s like my diary. But it is public. It’s because I want attention. i love attention. I am deteriorating. One day, all that is me is conveyed already and everything I say will be redundant. No point. But I will still want to write. Nobody will like it. This is something they have seen before. People want new things. They don’t like to see the same shit over and over again. But I don’t have anything new. The rest of the world does. I am irrelevant. I don’t matter really. No matter what I do achieve, I really won’t matter.