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for hours, the images kept coming back, haunting me so pervasively.

sharp objects

splashes of crimson

jolts of pain

then numbness.

then the silence.

in between ordinariness of work, the inane conversations and fake smiles, the images continued.

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one can only go on when one has a goal, something to work towards.

no matter how artificial, one needs a motivation, some sort of an endpoint.

i am afraid that i am completely at a loss.

where is my endgame?

where is all the struggle, all this pathos leading to -

there is no great something i can see on the horizon.

and the phrase that keeps coming back is,

k m n

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i am not even sad

it just feels all so pointless.

that is all.