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Jinga

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Who knows when everything around you might fall apart? 1 minute from the time you finish this sentence, 1 hour from lunch, 1 day, 1 year, 1 lifetime…you never know. It’s almost like a game isn’t it? A game you can never win. As if the world around you is built on a silly, complicated whim. So far so good, one more piece. Some sick form of jinga. Oops, there goes the tower. Or is it even a tower? Or is it a life? A broken, hole filled, decimated heart with missing chunks. Just one more insult, one more lie, one more rumor. It won’t hurt too badly. But it will. Some inner part of you will be bruised. So stop the pain. Stop the cuts and lies, stop the bullying. You know who you are. Because you never know when everything around you might just change. 1 minute, 1 hour, just one.



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