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.

Bruised

I guess I have stopped believing in everything. Some people learn the hard way.

I have spent a long time listening to the sound of water running. It was past evening and the night floated over the water tank.
There were shadows in the terrace moving. There were stars in the dark, water in their eyes. So I made circles with my fingers in the air, hummed a tune. And the night showed me the flowers through the garbage, the treasures through the leftovers, all what are found only in half-lights and moonbeams.

And then the wind broke into this lovely peal of laughter . For once I felt rich , for this clumsy mess you call life gave a jolt in my heart.

It felt nice for I was terribly sad, you see. For I had missed a few trains and taken a few wrong turns in life.

I really don't have anything to write on today. It's been a long time and a worthless try and I feel like a little dot in the universe. Too little for sadness or joy, problems or solutions.