A Dead Feeling

 A Self Reviving Thrift

"The one who defies himself, denies himself. Once and for all."

Am I Happy?

Am I happy? It’s a strange question, isn’t it? Happiness doesn’t always need a reason. Sometimes, it’s about living a relentless life with a story you share only with yourself. There’s something deeply satisfying about keeping your thoughts private, instead of laying them bare for strangers.

I don’t believe in change—I believe in evolution. Changing for someone else feels hollow. Evolving? That’s personal growth. The day you learn to read people, you’ll see it clearly: not just what’s wrong, but who’s wrong. People are often painfully predictable, aren’t they?

Sure, I might be wrong today. Maybe even tomorrow. But not every day. Nothing is permanent, they say—but maybe they’ve never truly felt pain. For me, pain has been a constant companion. It defines my life more than I’d like to admit.

I have claustrophobia—not the kind where small spaces suffocate you, but the kind where negativity traps you. Being surrounded by toxic people with no escape? That’s the real fear.

Lately, I’ve started rehearsing my fate. I create and destroy with the same hands—because that’s what humans do, isn’t it? Today, though, I’m happy. Not because of anything external, but because I found a part of myself I’d almost forgotten: the human inside me. The one who questions, doubts, and learns.

Strangely, I never felt lonely when I was by myself. But now, after meeting some people, the loneliness feels sharper. It’s not the absence of others that hurts—it’s the absence of yourself. Inner peace matters more than trying to align with people who don’t see the world the way you do.

Here’s a self-satisfying truth: I hate humans. And you probably do too. The only difference is, I can say it out loud, while you might feel it but refuse to admit it.