I feel so much vulnerable, so much passionless.
What I am doing to my life, I don’t know.
I don’t want any one to know, how mechanical I have become, and my thoughts have left me at all, and a regular thoughtless, sadness without any reason prevails all the time.
What I am doing to my life, I don’t know.
I don’t want any one to know, how mechanical I have become, and my thoughts have left me at all, and a regular thoughtless, sadness without any reason prevails all the time.
Where that excitement has gone?
I still remember the time, when I waited eagerly for your one message and one call. The happiness and eagerness, to hear your voice, the excitement to meet you daily at the class, and now, everything seems to be lost.
I myself find to be lost somewhere, and how much I try, I don’t find the same myself.
Have I gone mad?
I don’t know.
I still remember the time, when I waited eagerly for your one message and one call. The happiness and eagerness, to hear your voice, the excitement to meet you daily at the class, and now, everything seems to be lost.
I myself find to be lost somewhere, and how much I try, I don’t find the same myself.
Have I gone mad?
I don’t know.
I can’t tell it to anybody, no one likes to be bored and
hear a pathetic lover or failed in love. But this sadness never leaves me. And
I don’t have any option, beside to write all and post it to my blog.
Here no one knows me, yes, at least not by my name. Here I don’t have to pretend to be a sophisticated and practical person. Here I can be a mad, a pathetic, an adamant and arrogant person. And nobody cares after all here.
Something missing, what I don’t able to configure.
I try my hand at writing. Writing, more and more writing, sketching, more and more sketching, painting, more and more painting, but these passion don’t engage me long enough and again I find myself alone, alone in middle of nowhere. And that nowhere, is not full of light or darkness, a very dim light everywhere, and I see everywhere a blur, dim, boring sadness spread.
It seems, now I practice sadism. i have addicted to this and it is slowly making me more and more vulnerable. Today I read some blog, a fellow blogger, and you have written all your sadness it it. I gave you advice, I gave you hope, I gave you suggestion. I felt little good. I saw, you are going through the same, which I came across some very earlier time. I felt your condition, once I was like. After a long time, you will be like me, may be you can recover better than me. I have, but still in some corner of my heart, her memories are still there, which haunt me some time. Human mind is very complicated, some time we want to remember, but unable to do so, and some time, in spite of all effort, something we can’t forget, how hard we try.
Here no one knows me, yes, at least not by my name. Here I don’t have to pretend to be a sophisticated and practical person. Here I can be a mad, a pathetic, an adamant and arrogant person. And nobody cares after all here.
Something missing, what I don’t able to configure.
I try my hand at writing. Writing, more and more writing, sketching, more and more sketching, painting, more and more painting, but these passion don’t engage me long enough and again I find myself alone, alone in middle of nowhere. And that nowhere, is not full of light or darkness, a very dim light everywhere, and I see everywhere a blur, dim, boring sadness spread.
It seems, now I practice sadism. i have addicted to this and it is slowly making me more and more vulnerable. Today I read some blog, a fellow blogger, and you have written all your sadness it it. I gave you advice, I gave you hope, I gave you suggestion. I felt little good. I saw, you are going through the same, which I came across some very earlier time. I felt your condition, once I was like. After a long time, you will be like me, may be you can recover better than me. I have, but still in some corner of my heart, her memories are still there, which haunt me some time. Human mind is very complicated, some time we want to remember, but unable to do so, and some time, in spite of all effort, something we can’t forget, how hard we try.
Life itself is so strange.
A journey, a path in the middle of nowhere, and we have to travel all by
our self, we have to make path all by our self, we have to face thorns and
flowers under our feet all by our self, and it is real, it is not an illusion.
It is truth, life is tough and easy at times, and it is not easy to be the same
at different times, and a person who maintain that peace, he needs to be patted
on his back.
Sometimes I wonder, if I like to enjoy pretty tensed, I try
to remember, when I laugh loudly and I remember not a time. Sometime I wonder,
how some people, in spite of all their trouble use to laugh, use to smile, and
here I am in spite of all…….!
I am in the process of changing, what I have become, a
robot, a machine. And it is better or worse, I still don’t know.
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