All of us

 

I see us all today. And many years from now. One walking straight ahead. Not happy, and not knowing that that was never what he'd choose anyway; one building homes along the way, either too far ahead or too far behind, but never where I can see; the only one who has it all still beaten in her mind; and one dead and watching, far from gone, who quietly haunts them all.

 

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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