We’re a Generation of Self-Absorbed Individuals.

We are a generation of self-absorbed individuals,

Every morning, we soak in narcissism as we soak in Vitamin D,

Standing in front of the mirror, we admire our facial features, and maybe slyly ignore the ones that aren't so good after all,

We strive, we strive really hard to live the lives we carefully paint on our social media profiles,

But it's hard and often daunting,

Because the perfection we achieve on social media isn't a cakewalk in real life.

As a generation of self-absorbed individuals,

We live on gratification and seek validation,

Even when we claim we don't, we do,

We just don't say it, because we're too vain to admit

that our egos are bigger than our hearts and souls,

Our mess isn't ours alone, our heartbreaks aren't ours to embrace,

We break and heal with others,

We love and learn with people on the internet,

Our secrets are broadcasted in the daylight and we turn our lives into a mockery overnight.

We're a generation of self-conceited individuals,

Too broken to admit we're broken,

Too full of ourselves to see beyond our flesh and bones,

We watch as our lives fade and emerge between the newsfeeds and timelines,

Unfolding gently between the pretentious mornings and melancholic nights, we build constellations of our own,

We write stories for no one to read,

We laugh, half in love and cry over lost loves,

But in the end, we survive,

We breathe,

And we just live.

Those Days.

I still remember those days,

when my life was different and

I was a different person,

the biggest problem then was a boy

breaking my heart,

or me breaking his,

following days and weeks of regret.

I still remember those days,

when it was summer and

the Sun was either at its best

or worst,

both of which weren't a reason worth celebrating,

confined to the darkness of home where

even sun rays refused to reach,

I hoped to bid Summer a warmer goodbye soon.

I still remember those days,

when it's raining, and the raindrops on my windows

lure me into the world, outside,

as I step out into the balcony, the water forms a

little puddle around my feet,

the memory so fresh, it still feels like this morning,

I get drenched in the rain without an iota of worry,

I might suffer from sinusitis tomorrow but today,

I am wild and free,

and as these thoughts form a little castle in my mind,

I hear my mother's voice from the kitchen, downstairs,

"Your coffee is ready."