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People write diaries. Their diaries describe their personality. I write on my blog. It describes me way too well. :D
My writing takes me places my mind never wanted to go
Everyone writes. From the ink of their thoughts, by the pen of their mind on the page of their face. Everyone writes.I love to write. It is a passion; a compulsion; something that gives me an avenue to express myself. I write when I am happy; when I am sad or when an issue touches my heart. I find inspiration to write in every aspect of life.
This blog is dedicated to anything and everything that fills my thoughts and occupies cranial space

Saturday, July 30, 2011

Sometimes Life Really Sucks......

Every night as we lay our heads to the pillow we intend to give new promises for tomorrow, we insist to feed our broken dreams no matter how often we got betrayed by the injustice of time, and no matter how down we felt, no matter how hopeless it seemed, there is always that glimpse of light that burns within to give birth for a new day, well, sometimes life sucks, sometimes we are obliged to sacrifice everything, we let go of certain people, we let go of certain pleasures and sometime we even let go of some dreams, and yet life never seem to go the way we expect, the day you get up with the wrong mood nothing else seems to go right all day, a day from hell brings out the worst in us and sets the sun on our collapsed hopes. Not only this we also think what that particular day has brought for us. We enjoy all the good things happened with us that particular day but at the same time we also feel bad about the negative things. We regret about the bad things, somewhere in our mind we feel low about that negative thing or the negative feeling we have in us whether its due to some harsh words from some dear one or due to some problem in relationship or due to not scoring good in any exam or not getting the deserved promotion or not getting the fruit of labor after a hard work or may be due to some bitter words uttered by us for which we regret later
And so one more night we cry out our troubled heart on the lonesome pillow, seeking for a little consolation in the upcoming day, feeding the ashes of our dreams, fixing the misfit pieces together to formulate a shining view beyond all the imperfections of our lives, for what I have come to realize is that the imperfect pieces that we seem to miss are what make our life complete, crying to laugh, fighting to survive and dying to live, well, sometimes it is a just a bad day, and then like every night we try to forget all these negative things in the hope of a better tomorrow that tomorrow will heal all the wounds of today and we submit our self to sleep.



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