Life is an irony.
When you love, that’s when you get hurt.
When you already knew something’s wrong, you still go for it.
When you want to make things lucid, that’s when they get blurry.
When you almost believe that life is a boomerang, that’s when you get nothing in return.
When you felt loved, t
hat’s when you’re not.
When everything’s dark and left unvoiced, that’s when you’re conscious of the real you.
Who’s left alone. Who’s undone. Who’s muted by his absence. Who’s addicted to his ‘mimicry of love’.
Why is it required to answer positively when someone asks you how’s your day?
Why is it required to be okay in life? Why is it required to be jolly?
Why is it required to be heard? Why is it required to be fine?
Why is it required to be whole again?
Why do hearts get broken, and people bid goodbyes?
Why do we have to begin with strangers and end up being the same?
Why do I find it surprisingly emotional the moment you left?
I guess the moment you realized that life is full of irony is the moment you’ve experienced so much pain.
Irony teaches us how to balance, somehow.