I enjoy my life, I play, I dance, I read and I study. And after doing all this at the end of the day I realize how worthless is my life to this World, to this wide expanse of gases, of flowing liquid, of stars twinkling in shady nights, to the gravitons which are keeping me attached to the Earth, to animals, to plants and to the ingenious minds of human. Whatever I do, whatever I write does not affect anyone a bit. But do hey affect me? Do this body, this soul have any worth for me? Do I want to live? Yes, I think so. But why? I do not want to achieve anything. Whatever I see, I want to do feels worthless. What is its worth to me? This house, this food, this money, this paper,this air. To use, to waste and then to sleep. Would this thing I am writing have any worth than take up some precious moments of other’s life. But that is it. The answer is in my questions. Nobody gains nothing reading this mess but yet I write because I feel like it. It gives me a pleasure to put my thoughts out of myself, to make my head free, to relax. So why should i mind if its another piece of trash to anyone. Its serve its purpose for me.Its serves my purpose of a dustbin and i am throwing this things out. Now you may laugh at this mess I have made. You achieve whatever you are achieving. I have achieved what I want to achieve. I have thrown this burden out of my head and i will never think of it again because it does not matter to me what happens to me. you use your art in writing, you take in my heart with your writing but I am gonna expel waste. And as I again say, I don’t care what others think. I am worthy of myself because both of us me and my soul are unworthy for this world. And so I shall rest in peace with my excuses (if you wanna call them so) worthy in my own worthlessness.