Someone just called, “If you are not doing anything, come here and spend some time with me.”
I wanted to say, “I can’t”, “I’m busy writng a blog”, but I can’t.
I wanted to tell him, “dude, its too late”. Too late, after that lone, cold, dark night, when I didn’t call. And you didn’t either. The only difference being, I waited.
Love like all other emotions left me that day, when it knocked the cell phone of some else, in a typical nokia sound, at a ungodly hour.
He cheated on me. Again. For the last time.

It is far more honourable to fail than to cheat

Can just believing in something be considered the whole truth, what is whole truth anyways.

Why do we run behind truth, when we know it’ll hurt. I think somehow we want to get hurt.

Sometimes, long after it is over, we still are looking for answers. Thinking the answers will set us free. But they don’t. and we knew it all along.

Life doesn’t always give what you want. Life almost never gives what you want. Its easy if you accept the inevitable. But its hard to accept it.

My mind is known to function on its own. No matter how hard I try it does what it wants to. And more often than not has only done things which I instructed her not to. And her caz i think mind should be gender specific. The other day I wanted to write something, like a few good lines. I tried, coaxed him, even threatened her but it just refused to budge. Its behaved like past, refused to become better.

Diary

The other day the diary was open and a someone happen to read a few bits. Only to realise how shamelessly strong is the desire in all of us to somehow “expose” others. How shameless are the secrets we do not want to be “exposed”.

Is it possible for a man to ever completely know someone. Isn’t it that the major part of our lives we just play the role we are supposed to, without ever being your own self. Sometimes I feel all we are are character artists in a movie someone up there is enjoying in the name of reality television. Who knows what I believe to be the truth is what?

becausa i was born

A lot has happened. Being, small beings. Scurrying all around. Small joys of life, of wada pav and chai. Simple life, simpler dreams. Of small moments, big luxuries.

The pain resonating through wireless networks. Is it love or just one man to other. Someone desperate for a mouthful of words. Everyone living for others.

The theory of “Relative happiness”. I’m not sure if I’m happy. But I do know I’m relatively less happy. Changing yardsticks of life. Yardsticks, set by someone, for me.

People hanging by false beliefs. By fears. Feet on the cruches and asking for more. No one knows what, what do I want more. But there’s something I don’t have. What. I don’t know. Just something.

I go about living. For parents, for friend, for love, and marriage, and kids. Sometimes for house, sometimes for car. I find myself momentarily in between. But I always manage to loose it again, the high speed car runs faster than I can manage. It always does.

Because I was born.

They say I can’t live alone. I think they are right, I don’t know how much.

Feelings I read about, feelings I hear about. Feelings I never felt.

Something’s happening. Something, I don’t know and can’t control.

Deep Pearl Blue

Happiness does not exist, just like cold. Happiness as they say is when they are not sad. Like the absence of heat, is cold. Things you can’t buy, can’t sell. All that remains in the end is a “Pursuit”. “Pursuit of Happyness”. Happy-ness.

It’s a weird day, questions I don’t know, feelings I can’t define. Love that was never mine. Its all a “Pursuit”. And I don’t even know that.

Strange life…………………Strangers around.

Family, friends………..people so important. So non existent.

Secrets that are mine……………DEEP PEARL BLUE

The Weatherman

When you don’t know anyone who “knows” you, it is safe to say you are alone.
Sometimes even talking to someone over phone, abhors the vacuum.
Sometimes everyone is around and that just creates one. Or how The Weatherman puts it, A low pressure area.