"Don't you think our lives have become a tad bit mechanical? We wake up to a series of robotic beeps, run on a treadmill of tireless work, following our adrenaline rushes and finally breathlessly heaving into crumpled satin bed-sheets, only to wake up the next day and do the same," he sighed, scrolling through his phone.

    "I know and I don't like it at all. It's like our lives have all lost too many colours and our palettes have become drier than any drought. When we live like these, we focus on fatuous flaws on ourselves and turn a blind eye to the beauty tucked within darkened skies. I wish it all didn't feel so mechanical, like we're running on fueled up batteries and our fingertips move at the touch of a button. I really want to live as free as a bird, I don't want to censor anything about myself," she said.

    "We have ached for a little bit of freedom all our life."

"The question is- are we really even living?"