Because journey has no antonym.

Remember the awkwardness that ensues when you meet a friend after a ridiculously long time? That is exactly how I'm feeling right now. For this blog.
This blog's not getting any younger. And to top it, it isn't getting much attention either.
Certain events seemed to have sucked up every ounce of creativity I thought I had. I feel as if I've generally been skipping life, fleeting through college, projects and a haze of smoke. Remember that scene in movies where the world around the protagonist spirals in a great speed while she's just there, oblivious. That, exactly.
I wish I could run away, make a parallel world full of music I love and fairy lights.
Where I would need no fucking schedule that runs through monotony.

Also, fuck you pragmatism.

Besides that, I am officially done with people. Yes, they are pretty, but they sap your energy, not to mention any ounce of self-restraint you might want to keep. I hate people. And their clones. And their shiny toes. But most of all, I hate the universe for being such a troll.

People may come fucking call it a phase between drags of neatly rolled pretentiousness, but to them I say fuck you too.
I need to sit down, unclog ever piece of junk neatly piling into my brain, and collect it in a big box I shall call people and dump it in a far away land.
Until then.