Why does the noise feels like home? I feel alone in the sea of people yet so at home. I always tend to be a part of the crowd. When it is full of people, I sit in the corner trying to find my own place. The nuisance, the disturbance, the chaos makes my soul peaceful. I find myself more alive in this maddening crowd. Holding the pen and feeling the roughness of the piece of paper in my trembling hands is all I have craved for since forever. And yet as I hold it I feel too overwhelmed to let the ink flow as if I am letting go of my emotions, my vulnerabilities.

They told me to give an expression to my feelings then why is it so, that whenever I do so, I lose myself even more like grains of the sand. Why is it that the fear settles deep in the meadows of this jungle of emotions and red called heart? This noise makes my thoughts blank, my mind silent. I somehow, manage to skip a heartbeat, the red in my veins turn grey or maybe white, peace as we call it. I consider myself the murderer of reality.

The smoke makes my vision all blur and I drift away to some parallel world where I always wished to be in. I perform while I watch myself being a part of the audience. My soul leaves my physical existence, while the noise fills up my mind and a smirk settles on my lips.

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