I’m a contradiction between calm as dead and alive as . Some days I wake up at 3.33am just to see if ghosts whisper. Some days I jump stairs to see if I got a little taller than the previous day. Some days I smile at strangers on my way and some days I make faces at infants. Some days I even write d instead of b and laugh in my head for a while; laugh so hard that I can’t hear if someone’s calling me or maybe I do but just choose to ignore. I don’t know. I’m dipolar. So the other “some days” include lying on my bed rethinking if existence even has a meaning at all and overanalyzing if the world is crazy and if the system is consuming our creativity. An astrologer once said to me that I change decisions 18times a minute and I contradict him as I dwell on uncertainty. 18 is too certain and so is 3792 and so on. I dwell on abstraction. I dwell on the colourful blurry version of love and faith. Some days I choose words intricately so they rhyme like I’d choose rompers for my baby; Red is a must on Sunday, while some days I’d pick up my pen and just keep scrawling random words until their impressions are either on the core of the planet or in my mind repeating itself again and again and again until they’re engraved just as my inability to unlearn seeing time.