Clarity is a myth.

I literally do not know what to do with my life.
Has comfort spoilt me?

Do I have a calling at all?
Where does my passion hide?

Am I even passionate about anything except love?

Writing love letters for other people.
Can that be my unique thing?

Will you ever ask someone else to write a love letter on your behalf?

Are love and poetry the same?

Do you feel me?

Posted from WordPress for Android

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