Faces

Everywhere I see faces, unreal, helpless, contorted, restless. But all veiled. The dead expressions are forever on war against innumerable "What-Ifs".

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What is it that you are hiding beneath this happy façade of countenance? How are you my dear friend? How's life treating you?

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You try to create meaning out of this whole circus of life. What circus is this? Waking up, checking your phone and then slipping under the bed sheet once again, perhaps you'll snooze the alarm for another five minutes. What difference does it make- Sleeping five extra minutes or not; few more text messages of appreciation for what you've written last night or no appreciation at all.

This plastic creature that lights up in a touch, it buzzes, it has melodies too, can it give you what you crave for?

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I wonder, what fate has in hold for all those purposeless stories we write, all those purposeless pictures we take and all those purposeless lies we tell ourselves.

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In the bigger picture, nothing makes a difference.

In the end, its just a lie that you keep telling yourself that you aren't a joker and this life, ain't a circus!

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