The beginning was a paradox, the end was the invasion.
Maybe some sounds will always feel familiar, while other sounds feel alien to my ears. Maybe I'm just a little left out, and I'm trying to find a cure among whispers of strangers, among words of friends, among lessons of advisors. I still feel out of place, but the thing is, the place seems to adjust for me. Maybe I'm delusional, or emotional, or mystical. My thoughts are still going around the back of my head, like a 38 degrees temperature.
Maybe I'm just craving for hamburgers, who knows hunger can actually be a fuel for more thoughts to flow within my world.
Music is a double-edged acupuncture. It can heal, or it may make us dry of tears. Ironically, while writing this chapter, I'm listening to a music that made me cry once.
As wise men say, some people come to us as gifts, others come to us as lessons. I know a few people who pretend to be monsters just so they could convey their message to listening ears. Afterall, too much goodness, too much kindness, is quite threatening to the opposite side of the moral compass.