Days come.
Days go.

I do think that the purpose of my existence has ceased existing anymore. The very purpose of ones existence is to live a purposeful life. Not a purposeless one like mine. Or it will be much better if I say a purposeless one, like mine has become.


Reasons.

Never known to me. Or may be they're known to me but I keep pretending as if I know none of 'em.

What exactly is this? A state of experiencing self-escape. I i.e. Iqra Sajjad, define self-escape as a process of self-indulgence where you stop thinking and pondering over your being and just start dwelling in the much illusionised and fantasized world of yours.

So this is my modest definition of self-escape.

I'm escaping myself. I'm indulging myself (ETI! haaaaa! kia karoun main), I've stopped thinking and pondering over my being and I'm dwelling in my illusionised and fantasized world.

ETI again.
The inevitable reality of my being. (How much I hate / loathe myself on saying something like this)

GOD! I was never the way I'm now.

I used to be an optimist with my pessimism phases occurring at not-so-regluar intervals. Right now, the circumstances are vice versa (ST call it VICEEEE VERSA)

Whatever!

Life is a PRB. It keeps haunting you.
No matter how good are you at pretending, posing and appearing-to-be-normal, this PROB always succeeds to snatch that always-there-happy-mask from your GD face and let the bloody others come to know about the tear-stained, gored face of yours.

How much I hate this PRB when it do so with me. I always want to mask my face, my feelings, my emotions.

I don’t want anyone to know.
I don’t want my self to know.
I don’t want you to know.
I don’t want this word to know.

I ONLY WANT MY SALVATION TO KNOW HOW MUCH IT IS AWAITED.

Sometimes you do find a li’l dear secret to hug, a reason to live and a reason to smile, laugh and enjoy. At that time you think of yourself as the luckiest person surviving on this universe.
Same happens today. Ha! I’m euphoric. Euphoric to no limits.

AN INSPIRATION:

I don’t want anyone to know.
I don’t even want myself to know.
But I can’t help it.
I can’t help those seven colors of rainbow that spread on my face every time I see you. I can’t help that gleam in my eyes that sprang from nowhere every time I look in your eyes. I can’t help those faster-than-Schumacher heartbeats of my heart every time I find you around.

SOURCE:Bridget Jones

Ha! I’m euphoric.
I’m beaming all over.
I’m hugging my dear lil’ secret as close to my heart as I can.
I’m ecstasified.
I’m flying.

Why can’t this PRB remain this decent, this beautiful, this giving always?WHY?

We all have our shares of sorrows and pains and happiness. None of us is completely deprived of all of these. Sorrow, pains, laughter, joys, tears, they all form the life. Life which is a PRB. But at times this PRB acts decently and suavely.

Ha! ETI. Today it happened. I almost dropped my jaw to the ground ASAISH. I was so overwhelmed. Had there been no people around me I would seriously have cried or KH. :-P

Sounds kinda v. But seriously I was so very overwhelmed JBSH. SH after soooooooooooooooooo long. Further more I’d been MHLH. So that overwhelming was understood. Even today, in the morning I wrote something FH. It was like I was MHP from the cores of my heart. This is so very UNUSUAL for me. I know. But kia karoun. I’m kinda majboor.

subah hoti hai shaam hoti hai

umer younhi tamam hoti hai

What to write.
How to write.
And
Why on this good earth to write at all.


At a stage where all you feel is helplessness and hatred, all you want is catharsis.

A self-induced catharsis.

Am I ready for my catharsis or am I betraying my very self by this larger than the life terminology.

Whatever, I'm in the process of self-identification right now.

All I need is blessed solitude.

Solitude - the essential-est-of-'em-all prerequisite for my existence.

saaya bhi sath jub choor jaey, aysi hai yeh tanhai

Nice line. Isn’t it.