I am having difficult times. Difficult days, these. Difficult task, this. The toughest fights are those that you fight with yourself.
Meanwhile, I am venting all my frustrations out to people who donot deserve them.

I went to the terrace tonight. There is something about the winds on rooftops that gives me hope. That reminds me of the valour of a person I admire a lot, a quest and a dream. The past has sogged on neglect; I have to rejuvenize lost strengths, I think, and relocate the misplaced jigsaw pieces. For they say, when you set out for treasure, every little step of the journey is a moment's encounter with eternity.

And here, I know now how miserable I am in prose, and I'm sad that I couldn't give you even a morsel of what I'm feeling. And I really donot mean to not share with you, but I guess I am bad with expressions, I'm sorry; I donot want to give you the wrong impressions. Then you may start feeling sorry for me and piss me off completely.