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?