complexities

“An old man turned ninety eight, won the lottery and died the next day…”

I am but an irony.

I love sunshine but I long for the rain.

I feel comfortable with my flip- flops but I’d rather go out with my sneakers on.

I yearn for the stillness of the night but the day’s vivacity makes me feel alive.

I love to paint yet I am not really good at it. *oh yeah, I’m a frustrated painter*

I’m vain yet at times I don’t care if I look odd or something.

I can be tough but I’m fragile.

I like taking risks but I’d rather play safe sometimes.

I long to write but now I suddenly feel the need to stop.

Yet one thing’s certain: I am happy.

But with me, even the most definite things tend to be vague.

….endless sarcasms to talk about.


"...isn't it ironic?"