She

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 that whole life – spent on the computer. The act of contemplating, sleep deprived, how the gloom placidly turns into a cheerful blue sky gets when the sun rises.

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


2017 note: Found this unfinished essay on a forgotten notebook page among other stuff of mine from High School.