Daily writing inspired by random writing prompts. A way to cultivate a habit of spontaneous writing.
Time ends.
It is usually viewed as this infinite thing that cannot be defined. Science and religion have tried to tell us how it all began and even how it might end. But on a cosmic level, it is not something we can see end. It is not something anyone alive now can hope to see end. But time ends.
There is something special about chaos.
It’s the brutal honesty and clarity of purpose. Everyone knows what chaos looks like and why it exists. And that is what makes it special.
They were driving fast. She was behind the wheels and she always said the fast lane was meant for fast driving.
It was late but the moon was full and the night was bright. Their eyes were almost reflecting the twinkling stars.
People are complicated. Life is hard. One minute there is a reason to smile to the most insignificant of things, the next moment you feel a new vibe that invalidates your feeling of peace and contentment.
But the real kicker is in the twisted belief that people actually think they are unique.
Sometimes broken things do not need to be fixed; they are better thrown away.
Sometimes things break not by accident but because they’ve been in use for so long they outlive their relevance. And sometimes it’s okay to acknowledge that it’s time to move on.
When the balance tilts hard in your favour, when the years are on your side, when time brings you nothing but fortune, you care little for it all.
Because you’re unable to see beyond the bridge of your nose at what gift you have. You are blinded to what is at the other side.
Once upon a time, we were.
A force.
We could look ahead and have a glance into the future, one that was so promising we aimed for it. Like porters, we shaped ourselves into something resembling a masterpiece. We took our time because we had enough.
