This world is a huge shopping mall, at least that's how I feel when I am living in the city. The shops comes closer to you, waiting you right at the station, walk a mile, and you will end up wanting more.

 Yes, I wanted. I want. I am wanting.

 Every thing seems like the missing puzzle piece.  If only I had that in my life, I would find the love of my life perhaps. But who cares about the dishes you use, the shape of the cup that holds the utensils, and the soaps you lather on to your body??  And even if everything was wonderful what does it mean if I eat a meat balls like a dog and wipe my fingers with my pants because its black and no one can see the stains? 

"Haha you fools ! Everything is not visionary."

"You gotta sense the invisible if you want to know the truth. "

 I am not an inch more. But still I kept looking for the ideal cup that holds my Silicon Chopsticks. And bought a blue cloth to wipe the glass door on my cupboard, Without color, I cannot identify the function of things. That's what I noticed recently. Some one was mesmerized by this remark and asked if I had synesthesia, no, not that. Please don't romanticize my disability, its just a disorder that everyone has in a way or another. 

"Don't you have any secret though?" 

"Of course I do."

"What?"

"I sometimes put chicken bones in my pockets."

"Huh?" 

 I've been me for quite a while, so I know quite a bit about me. More than anyone perhaps. This mysterious thing called "me" walks and talks, but never "does". I hate doing, because it seems like everyone who does, suffer. Doing is suffering, because slowly and slowly they consume you and then also tarnish you because the world loves and hates the doers.  

I also, spend most of the time hating and loving the doers. As if I were better than them. No, I am not, I just don't.

If I did, I would be ( better ) of course, but I can't risk it. Not yet.