Pot,kettle,black?

Im currently in a partially ambiguous endeavour, in the quest of unearthing absolute tranquil. Limbs perfunctorily getting to the threshold. Is it all by design? Divine intervention,i seek your aid. The ephemeral sort of remedy that renders immutable solace,liberating me from the hedonistic features the world is embellished with.

Congratulations are in order,and that half hearted simper i predominantly don just to maintain a facade of stability in an inch of proximity from that inebriating presence. Within a gander,it dawned upon me, the innate yearning of a being. Because,i fail to recall my human characteristic, remember when you cited clearly how im 'incapable to feel anything', as dusk falls , and then you'd burst into modest guffaws hoping you're wrong,both hands gripped on the steering wheel whilst those pools of browns bore daggers into the streetlighted avenues.  Some ruckus-like tune soundtracking the drive, and your choice of music repelled me to the bone. A cacophony of shrieks and reiterated phrases trailed by what appears to be vile drumming.   It would be a privilege to be granted the consent to decipher your cogitations,for they are enigmatic in manner. The pin drop reticence drops correspondence amidst us. Broken by my inappropriate giggles,raw and innate as i find humour within our adolescent oriented traits. 18 and naive. A marionette for naivety. I tend to forget im only human,and you do too. Regarding me above the seventh welkins,when i was writhing beneath the soils to begin with. Grotesque sight, well reality bites.