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What if…

…upon closing your eyes, you would open them up and find yourselves looking in the world of Alice? Or of Dumbledore? Maybe you’d rather go to the world of the Hobbits, or of Aslan’s, or maybe, of Ichabod Crane?

The worlds we are able to imagine, the worlds inside our heads give us freedom more than what the world we can see with our eyes gives us. We look at the repetitious lives we lead and wonder if there’s more to it. And instead of looking for answers in the world you could touch, you go back to your own head and explore there all the limitless possibilities. You could be anyone. You could be anything.

But after the journey, you find yourself sucked into the vacuum which is the world that we all inhabit. And some find it well. But some think it’s not fine at all that you go back to your bleak lives and start the routine like how you always used to, start living with almost nothing in a world obsessed to have everything. You go back to being miserable.

You go back to being…you.

And this is unbearable to some, most of all those who have no one to tell them that they matter, that they are important and that they still have a place in this world. These people go back and each step they take into the doors of their minds might be the last time you would ever have them. For when some people enter those inviting doors, they choose to lock the door from the inside. Some even destroy it, hoping to never see the way out again.

We see these people every day. At first glance, you could not tell they weren’t really there. But if you dare to go closer and look into their eyes, you would know what nothing means – eyes that were there but not seeing, eyes that do not look back.

Lost. Or perhaps, hiding.

(This has started to be a cheery reflection. As normal people say, I blame it to the weather. Might blame the apocalypse as well.)

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If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn’t part of ourselves doesn’t disturb us. -Hermann Hesse (1877 – 1962), Demian I stand here in the balcony and weep, not for any cause, woes, and hurts noble but for mine and mine alone. The one time I …

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“Take me, lift me, Come, Wind, come, Away from this monster, Into my mum’s arms, This little one, helpless one, A flickering light, Hear me sing of hopeless dreams, A bird’s broken flight…” *** I am not one with parents. Never had, never will. Well as a music box, I can’t expect to have any. …

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