i dont think i am doing well, i feel how i’ve felt most of my life. i feel lost and hollow, and that’s the truth. does my sadness upsets you? actually it would be wrong to say that i am sad. i am hollow, swimming on the brim of a tin can, trying to breathe. i don’t know you and you don’t know me, yet here we are thinking of each other. i think of you, my dear reader and you? do you think of me, as you read this? are you a man, woman, man woman? i am a boy, a twenty three yo fat boy. i am often angry at everyone in my head, but i don’t tell them. i don’t tell them because i am lonely as i sit between this fair of humans, buzzing like bees. oh it’s jungle. i am distracted, listening to the chatter of the shopkeeper next to my father’s shop. it’s not important, what they are talking. it’s not important to me, i mean yet i listen. i always listen. it’s kind to listen. and also because i am hollow. do you feel hollow? oh don’t imagine me as a sad grumpy boy. i have a grin on my face right now. i am just a boy. it’s so utterly difficult to write, just how it’s difficult to breathe and to walk and yes, to write. what’s life? what’s the meaning of it? well there’s no meaning. you interpret meaning out of bizarre conundrum of the world. by the way, twenty three means adulthood right? am i an adult now? but i am tanzim and i am only a young little boy. i want to sit in a corner and cry and cry, cry a lot. i like crying. let’s be serious. okay.