Today, Saturday


I say there are only two things constant in this world: change, and my life in a perpetual state of disorder. Often I dive deep into this gigantic and unforgiving self-pity sinkhole. I am old and ugly and essentially as useful as my mom’s appendix. Oh right, she doesn’t even have one.

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When the night has come…

After watching Stand By Me for the hundredth time a few days ago, I was urged to finally finish Stephen King’s The Body from the novella collection Different Seasons. This throwback of sorts was triggered by binging all eight episodes of Stranger Things, a Netflix series about many things strange (alternate dimensions and gooey monsters) and heartwarming (a mother’s love and the solidity of childhood friendships).

Consuming all these coming-of-age stories is not doing any good to my self-esteem. I am currently trailing the remaining days of the summer and being reminded that I am now older than River Phoenix when he bid buh-bye makes me feel deeply sad and lonely.

Aside from that one time when I went out on a picnic with a few friends, I did nothing else this summer but work and sleep and sleep some more.

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