Hi. What's wrong with us? Like I have heard from a hundred people and read in a thousand reflections, is this a phase we both are enduring together? Probably sitting at the edge of different branches, touching finger to finger, ready to fall down and blame one another for the fall. Not the wind. Not our audacity to tiptoe on the verge, but just each other. (Caption) Hi. What's wrong with us? Like I have heard from a hundred people and read in a thousand reflections, is this a phase we both are enduring together? Probably sitting at the edge of different branches, touching finger to finger, ready to fall down and blame one another for the fall. Not the wind. Not our audacity to tiptoe on the verge, but just each other. You are a few meters away from me, looking at a different direction yet my skin is burning from nothing but pure hatred you are sending my way. What did I do to you? Or, what did I not? Maybe, nothing. Maybe I didn't even come close to fulfilling your expectations. You never told me what your expectations were. You are not telling me now; now that I am demanding you to, you're brushing it off by turning my demand against me. "You won't do it. You can't be relied upon. You suck my blood." I can't sweep the house? I can't wash vessels? I can't cook? Very well. Still, I would rather shut myself behind big books than believing that hatred for someone can come out of their inability. Besides, I am perfectly capable of sweeping, cooking and cleaning. I just don't do it like you do, because I am not you. Maybe you think I am ungrateful. Maybe. No, you are certain that I am an ungrateful filthy piece of crap. Am I? If you had asked me a few months or about one or 2 years back, I'd have faltered before thinking. Whereas at this moment, I am convinced that I am, that I possess not even a drop of gratitude for you in me. You have convinced me. I read somewhere that we become what this world tells us we are. Have I become a rude, selfish prick? I will close my ears. Ears.
