I sometimes hate living with myself. But what choice do I have.

You are the love of my life. Everything I have and everything I am is yours. Forever.

How good you write, depends on why you are writing it.

When you write to impress a girl, the girl is impressed, but your writing is shit.

When you write to get known, people get to know you, because you are the one who writes shit.

When you write for money, you do get money, but your writing is still shit.

But when you write, to write good, you get to write good, along with all that shit.

You will never read about what happens inside the mind of a suicidal person. There are three kind of people who might know about it. Some try to guess it and write about it. But they don't know shit. Some, who are on the brink of depression, try to understand it and explain it. They might be so depressed as to get a peek inside the darkness of a suicidal mind. Still, the essence in purity could never be verbalized, because one who is in such a deep abyss, who has decided to let go of all, who now cares neither for glory nor acceptance, could not care less for coloring a paper that others might admire, idolize, loathe or just ignore.

But then, there is the third kind, known as the "living dead", the ones who got back from the suicidal pit, and now live in the state of constant depression. These are the few people who actually know, what it feels like, to accept death. But he doesn't keep sharing his NDEs with everyone. Its just by the virtue of probable incidence that some warm afternoon, when he is feeling not so sad, has a full belly and not so sleepy, that he picks up a pen and a piece of paper, for no one in particular, and writes his heart out.

If you are into English poetry, try "Oxford book of Verse" by Arthur Quiller-Couch.

ALL the words that I utter,
  And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
  And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
  And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
  Storm-darken'd or starry bright.

-William Butler

P.s. I might not have written this, but I do mean it, all the same.

I guess people like me only as long as I don't expect anything. The moment I ask for something...

Disney world

I have never been to Disney world. Read a lot about it though. I guess I have seen it in some movie too. Can't remember it now.

They say its the happiest place on earth. I wonder why is it so. Is it because only people who are already happy, allowed to go inside? If so, then how do they measure if a person is happy? Do they have some device like a thermometer. "You can't go in, you are only 98 Disney happy, you need to be at least 102 Disney happy, or higher to get in", they would say, with Disney being the SI unit of happiness.

Or is it because the people get happy when they go in? How can you make a person happy? I would surely love to know that. Then I would be the first person whom I would make happy. What exactly is it that makes people happy in Disney world? Is it the "Dream-come-true-life-size-mickey-and-goofy" figures, who seem so glad to hug you, even more than you do, or is it the unending array of fantasy rides that titillate the senses you never knew you had. What do I know, I've never been there.

I guess the whole idea of being happy is based on ignorance. "Ignorance is bliss". I heard it the first time in the movie "Matrix". Didn't understood much then, but nothing seems more true than this now. I think thats what the Disney world does to people. It enables people to ignore their problems, even if for a little while, and earns the title of a happy place. A place that won't solve your problems or guide you in your dark paths, hell thats not a church you know, but it would make you forget about all your life, and its deficiencies that you have identified, so far, and let you believe in this perfect world, that is, happy.

But I don't think I could ever be happy without you. Well then, there is only one way for me, I have to go to the Disney world with you.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

-William Ernest Henley

Desperation is never appreciated by any girl. They think of it as a sign of weakness. Ofcourse it is, you are my weakness. But I am not weak for the rest of the world, I assure you that.

Why no one ever comments on my posts? All I have is a single comment yet.

You see, if you are planning of singing sad ballads, you need to learn to play guitar "before" your heart is broken. 'Cause afterwards, you are as good as dead. You just can't do anything.

You don't need me for anything. But it feels good if you still want me for something.

I might be a good writer, but I am a terrible person. And if you disagree, you just don't understand good literature.

The feeling of happiness is always cluttered. Feels like something is missing, feel afraid that its going to be over, the impending sense of doom.

I feel calm, when I am sad. No hurry, no agitation, no noise. Just calm. Feels like the right thing to feel. I feel like I can breathe. No one to talk to, no one to answer to, no one to care about. And to know that no one cares about you either. Relaxed, peaceful, sad.

May be I take love too seriously.

Its your marriage anniversary right? Are you happy to ruin my life?