Pink Sock

Either there is nothing to be happy about or there is a lot to be happy about. 

Just that I can't find the other pair of sock. I can wear a gray one, and a red one. Not that it'll have a huuuuge impact on my 'aura' but, I want to wear either both gray socks, or both red socks. I can't decide. I will one day be screaming, running out of my place, dragging my television set along, my prehistoric cellular phone tucked in my pocket. I will go to the nearest dump and start collecting trash. May be there I find a pink sock to wear. 

I will do whatever it requires for me to become a mime artist cause that way the smile will be plastered on my face for ever. 

The mind is so cluttered like the room that thoughts refuse to die down. 

The thoughts are so random like songs on the playlist that sometimes I find myself thinking about the neighbor's couch cover. This place no longer seems nice. Its not mine anymore. It belongs to 85 other people. I can't be pleasing anybody anymore. Its constantly on my mind, constantly. 

I wish for this miserable feeling to disappear with the same speed as it appeared.