On nights of drunken revelry the soul embarks on the strangest of journeys. But the challenge lies in staying alive in the cold arms of sobriety. Under the constant pressure that you should be happy even though
there is no reason to be.
So I chose scraps of freedom over happiness. I chose not to care if I am content with life or not.
And I woke one day, drinking wine and singing in a house I entered for the first time.
One with no windows and no doors. One I might never return to. And there I mused and realized that I can be eternally young as long as I am kept away from any impossible dream.
And thus my soul grew and loved and was loved. Then the house which I built in my heart, was never truly victimized by things beyond my control. By disappointment.By frustration. By the constant doubt, of wanting to settle for less than I deserve.
In the end, my soul was a feather. And it endured all the cataclysms of this strange and vicious land.
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