Long commute.

Sunrise, perfect timing. You wake up. You ponder around, nowhere to be found in reality. You become the best of friends, with your ceiling slash pillows. You snap back into what's real. Seven minutes, passed. You cannot decipher your dreams earlier on. You are not alone, you say. You are not alone, you think. You are not alone, you lie. Thirteen minutes of self-convincing. You get out of bed. You watch you ethereal self in the mirror. You are just like everyone else. You have the same features. You live in the same world. You are yet, somewhat different. Six minutes of questions only God can answer. You take a moment to look back. You are envied. You are intensely immune. Nine minutes contemplating. You say you don't care. You slip in lies between facts. You have had enough.

Are you, still you?

Side note : Interview with the US Embassy on Wednesday! Darn it. Butterflies are back. Shoo shoo.