Lebensmüde Diaries (Part 2)

If you are the smartest person in a room, do yourself a favour and change the room.

How long can a person slouch? How long can you walk before falling down and scraping your knee? Bruising your elbows? How long before the skin comes off the flesh?

There is a limit, a limit to entertain yourself. You have to laugh and crack meaningless jokes to survive. You have to crack multiple eggs, sacrifice multiple beings, in order to prepare a perfect omelette. There are set recipes for that. However, there is no recipe to survive this holocaust. OR is there? If you can get a boost: the quintessential ego boost, you might come out alive, albeit damaged. It will be temporary for sure.

How long before you remove this plastic off your face? This unreal expression, this fake moment you are living and feeling? This thought? This instant. This. How much of this is real? Try sitting on a cold marble floor. It is icy chilled, yet, there is a warmth that seeps from the bottom of the floor through your spine, to your neck, with a series of goosebumps. It makes your teeth clench hard. You want to explain what it is but you never can. You never will.



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