Sometimes when the only thing I admire or look up to loses its grace, I turn to you to rummage a world that might welcome me with open arms and embrace me with a kind and an affectionate touch. And that world is nothing but an embellishment of your comforting words.
You can call me susceptible, baby. But that does not worry me at all, as long as I have you. And let me be very honest here. Let me brace it up with truth. I have left my mind at the threshold. I do not require it, anymore. And I suggest you to do the same.
Staring at its countenance would lead you into nowhere.
Make an effort. Open the jammed door, silly.
And try to understand how I show the audacity and impudence (take it in a positive way) to stretch my limbs beyond conventions. To say that I am too stubborn to fall along the lines is misleading. It projects a wrong picture. The truth is, I just live every moment of being free. Call it a perverse set of thoughts. I don’t care. I live and do not impede others to live. My idea of survival might differ from theirs' but let me not indulge in a diabolic disapproval of others' lives. With different ideas, it would be pretty wise and judicious to display an even more beautiful and sound place. So let us try to express the magic of carving unusual pictures, just how I enjoy it. Simple up to the brim.
But before that, answer me. Do I make sense?