My little bubble, let me describe it. Outside it, it's a beautiful world of colour and work and order, but inside my bubble swirls my everything.
The insecurities, the inconsistent feelings, the thoughts that shame me, the un-fulfilled resolutions, the silly things that make me happy, the silly things I don't talk about because they just wouldn't do.
Some bubbles contain the hurt of unrequited love, a thirst slaked outside the bubble with dalliance and one-nighters, careless flirtations.
Some bubbles, I imagine, consist of the wars between what we are and we should be.
Some bubbles are of anger, resentment, helpless fury.
Some are of temptation, of fruits that strive to stay untasted.
I don't know, there must be a lot of such bubbles. It's just so apparent that everyone is living in one, though. We all just seem to float around endlessly, bobbing about on the waves of society, sticking to protocol, doing what's expected. But everyone is in their own little indestructible bubble of everything.
The insecurities, the inconsistent feelings, the thoughts that shame me, the un-fulfilled resolutions, the silly things that make me happy, the silly things I don't talk about because they just wouldn't do.
Some bubbles contain the hurt of unrequited love, a thirst slaked outside the bubble with dalliance and one-nighters, careless flirtations.
Some bubbles, I imagine, consist of the wars between what we are and we should be.
Some bubbles are of anger, resentment, helpless fury.
Some are of temptation, of fruits that strive to stay untasted.
I don't know, there must be a lot of such bubbles. It's just so apparent that everyone is living in one, though. We all just seem to float around endlessly, bobbing about on the waves of society, sticking to protocol, doing what's expected. But everyone is in their own little indestructible bubble of everything.
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