Every human being you see on this earth is fighting a war, defending self against the cumulative effects of spiritual, medical, emotional, social or even fraternal raids. And none, except perhaps your immediate family, owes you an explanation for the things they do.

Some are perceived as rich, but they have no money; some athletic, but no health; some successful, but tragic failures; some beautiful, but horribly scarred. Because they are not your labels, not what YOU think they are.

One of biggest deceptions in the history of humanity, as could be testified to by witnesses to certain inventions of this century, may be that vanity-promoting platform called Instagram. That you see people in their fancy dresses and sleek cars and colourful mansions isn't an evidence of blissful existence.

Some have cancer. Some are broke. Some have lost their job. Some are bereaved. And that your small mind doesn't recognise that such is the mystery of the world and that none of these pretenders to happy life owes you a clarification or an apology for being an insatiable and imperceptive leech, is your own war.

Some, having been betrayed by the community they expected to elevate them, have chosen to subscribe to a respectable introversion. Life is too short to add a footnote to every graspable story. People mostly remember you on two occasions: when you have "made it" and when you are dead!
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