Daily interactions with people has become tedious for me.
It's not that I like being alone more.
It's that I like being surrounded by people less,
be it strangers or even my own relatives.
Perhaps I am slowly walking down the path of absolute solitude?
Talking has become a nuisance. It opens doorways that lead to arguments and conflicts, and frankly I find such childish endeavors a waste of time. Only insolent and spoiled bastards find such opportunities in the most innocent of statements.
I used to love speaking my mind. I still do. Ignorance took away that joy of mine. Ignorance in the form of my kin...
Speaking was the only escape I had. Little by little, I was able to let go of frustrations and unwarranted emotions. Feelings of torment would be subtly released in senile jokes, loneliness in sarcasm and vulnerability in playful insults.
Now I draw and write stories to vent these suppressed feelings of mine.
I guess this proves the point about doors and windows, huh?
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