Life is…

Mixing and matching—

like cheap instant noodles.

Twisting and turning—

like a fart in a sleeping bag.

Praying and hoping—

to gods who probably muted this chat.

Dreaming and considering—

mostly considering a nap instead.

Never knowing, yet always knowing.

(Shut up, brain.)

Wanting to, yet not wanting to.

(Make up your mind, you coward.)

Mixing my heart—

sounds messy. Like spilled curry.

Matching my soul to others—

bad fit. Wrong size. No returns.

Twisting fate with the flick of time—

fate doesn't flick back, the bastard.

Turning my life over—

like a soggy roti. Same shit, other side.

Hoping that it would end—

the drama, the wait, the gas.

Praying that bad things never happen—

ha. Ha ha. Good one.

Thinking it was beginning—

classic rookie mistake.

Wishing for good things—

cute. Adorable. Delusional.

Dreaming of its coming—

wake up, you've drooled on yourself.

Considering letting it steal within—

like a thief with bad timing and worse breath.

Never knowing if it's true—

spoil alert: you never will.

Always knowing that it's there—

like a hemorrhoid. Uncomfortable but present.

Wanting to live in the light—

sunlight? lamplight? phone screen at 3 AM?

Not wanting the darkness to come—

too late. It's already here. It brought snacks.

The love of another—

sounds exhausting, honestly.

The dreams of someone close—

probably about running from a giant spoon.

Remembering what we used to do—

can it come back if we pray so?

No.

Praying doesn't work.

I've tried.

Now pass the whiskey.

Note:

This piece is inspired by those who puddle and pucker life—you know, the ones who make every small thing into a emotional crisis. You puddle in self-pity, you pucker in fear, and somehow life still happens without asking your permission. This one's for you, you beautiful disasters.