i fall into the junk drawer of human existence, in a
way that no one knows what to do with me, or more
accurately, i don’t know what to do with myself
like some oddball key that you haven’t used in seven
years but are sure it still opens something important, or
a six-foot long white cable that powers a device that was
left on the beach three summers ago.
“what the hell is this thing?”
“i don’t know but don’t throw it out.”
that’s me. the don’t-throw-it-out thing that’s in the
drawer filled with other human beings that don’t quite fit
in the silverware organizer or mug cabinet. and maybe
it’s a good way to live and maybe it’s also a drag some
days not knowing what you’re meant for
maybe you’re a writer or an artist or a this or that kind of
person, and you feel more lost that found.
that’s cool. at least we are in the same drawer. and maybe
that’s the purpose of not having a fixed purpose, to team
up with other misfits and weirdos, to do amazing things
that have never been done.
Yashraj Sharma 