Writing makes me calm and gives me anxiety at the same time. Like my blood is pumping so fast that my veins cannot bear it, but it is the very thing that makes my body and soul feel alive. It’s the poison as well as the elixir.
I’ve been breathing for quite a while now,
Living on this beautiful planet for quite a while now,
But I still don’t feel like I am at home.
I need to justify my existence, and writing is the only way I know how.
I want to,
I want to be worthy of the opportunity that is given to me. I want to feel and make others feel something,
I am a Mortal and I plan to exist till Eternity.