I enter my home each day and collapse into my bed like a burnt cigarette smothered on a full ash tray; after every ounce of individuality gets sucked through the miasma of “open”,”diverse”,”unique” and “meaningful” work that counts down to an end but never does. Atleast I have my old broken self for the cushion or else it would have been just a sigh of an existence that flew in and ruffled the only thing in order. Each death every night is a rebirth the next morning and it gets difficult to get out of my bed. Just like a first day in this new world which I strangely know more than my self. I sometimes do. Not always. Regret to be alive. #calmkaziwrites #plights #office #parallel #musings #pain
