Spend the rest of my days here..

A certain disposition.

That’s all I ever think about these days. How one’s disposition can be easily misinterpreted and so quickly accused of forgery of oneself. How do you tell apart the utmost sincere ones from those that beg of attention in the corners of the present or rather, their presence?

I now see that it is downright impossible to please everyone no matter how much they say that kindness begets kindness because in reality, that doesn’t happen too often.

This constant fight is slowly inching its way to flight. I am almost at my wits’ end on trying to figure out the mysteries that this life - the one that is mine - has to offer.

“Slowly, my dear..” you never fail to tell me of this. How the whole fast-paced life can sometimes get through to your nerves and your bones, causing you to seek comfort in solitude. Even then, it isn’t enough.

So, what’s enough?