She’s despair, daily fatigue and frustration. An intersection of the lack of meaning and the intense desire to mean.

She’s the attempt, failure, and procrastination of both. (Not the immediate withdrawal, at least.)

She’s an overrated trivial human. The excessive worry about disappointing everyone who has been praising her way too much.

She’s the night – and the whole life – spent in the computer. The act of contemplating, sleep deprived, the orange blue sky in which the sun rises.

She’s the past, even though she craves for the future.

2017 note: This essay was found unfinished and forgotten in a notebook paper among other stuff of mine from High School.