No title.

 People want to relate their misery; they want someone to feel what they are going through—their EMI, their school fees, their wife's unfulfilled desires, their sanitary pads. They have to fulfill all of these by holding up what they always wanted. Sadly, whenever I meet someone, if they happen to know me, they ignore me at the first; and the ones who doesn't know me will take some time to ignore. They always find some or the other to express their pain, and the other is also looking for them, ... And I couldn't relate to anyone either. Who is going to talk about music, madness, literature, paintings, papers, brushes, and all the stuff? And now I know that it's better to shut my mouth rather than try to communicate or to relate with anyone, where basically nobody is going to truly understand the other.

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