A species named “Things”
Sometimes you just don’t want to be anyone. So you decide to be “you” A body with a soul, raw, untouched. I know it's difficult, but it's not impossible. I have this fear of losing things, and I get mad when I am not able to find it. Not because “I” own them, but “they” own me. And I feel as if they would be searching for me, because they too have fear of losing me. When I say things, I literally mean only things. (I am not mentioning people here so don’t try to relate it with losing people) When I say things what I mean is, my pen’s cap, my leaf book marks, rough pages, rings, scrunchies, beads, shirt buttons, spoons, pencil, nail paint bottles, safety pins, toothbrush, paintbrushes, earphones, charger, comb, polaroids, dried flowers, amazon boxes, dried fruit peels, freetime 2 inch sketches, and the list goes on and on. I try to keep them safe. The thing is when you can't adjust with homosapiens, you choose an entirely different species. The f...