It

It is remotely funny.

 

It is like the best friend that you never saw. It isn’t cute, but is extremely beautiful.

 

When it moves, it is like a flamethrower shoveled right into your skin.

When it works, it is like a magic wand, which casts a spell on you and freezes you in bedazzlement.
When it whispers, it is like a ballerina who tiptoes in a nail-bitingly crisp, feather touch

 

It is like a story that you want to read over and over again. A story that does not feel the need to pretend; or a prose, that stuns you with its voluptuous complexities, trapping you into a world you could never have imagined.

 

It is like a song which doesn’t end. It has a voice that doesn’t change.
It is like a revolving door of a house that keeps on opening and closing in perpetual déjà vu – a house that you want to invade, and investigate.

 

It is like fiction, which keeps unwinding frivolously at a breakneck speed as you rambunctiously try to join the dots.
And just when you are close to deciphering it, it becomes a maze that changes its escape route and you understand that it is but a vicious cycle.

 

That is when you realize that you aren’t the solver. You are the problem.
It is your mind; and it’s overpowering you, one moment at a time.


 

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