My mind is the biggest liar, I don’t trust it ever. The other day it told me to be sad, but I was euphoric for no reason. Today, it made me feel that the world is going to end, but I don’t think so.  I often tell art, literature, poetry and even nature, not to add fuel to my mind’s fantasies. Once it triggers, my mind is a boggling circus show.  It juggles colors, play acts that I truly become a helpless spectator. When the audience dismisses it saying, I am being creative or I am a super intellectual; I look at the trigger with a nasty stare.

The circus show is on for a whole season, tickets sold without my permission, bothering me even at night. No, the profit is not shared and I stay empty-handed, poor and go hungry. So, I often beg triggers not to come my way. Temporary gates are built, yet some days performers ignore the beware sign and enter my personal spaces. 

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