Recollecting each tiny detail of that life was harrowing enough, but I wanted to live through those days, this is to put it seminally rather it should be reliving it vividly with my imagination in hand. I didn’t want to go through the ordeal again, ever in my imagined span of my life. The realizations that there are many others like me who are insulated from the ramblings of the world and seek solace in a clouted space of their own, not necessary a room. I was rooming the streets with a head inside my head making and constructing the advances which could realistically develop things round, the insinuations which alluded to the fact that I was incapable of leading a normal life saddens me.
An life inside the head is the frightening thing I could ever come across. To be subjected to the whims of one’s mind. My notes are evenly spaced between different dimensions, between undated notes, and the discipline of the to -do list and the expansive extensive contemplation of philosophy.