I have tried so hard to put into words, the swarm of thoughts running through my head these days. But, I realized, the more I force myself to sit, the more antagonistic they become. They hide themselves in a corner, refusing to come out, despite the threats of never giving them company, ever. And then I realized, with twitter and facebook, my thoughts have learnt to become miniature versions of themselves and that I have little patience to sit and write a word or two about anything. There are stories that whisper themselves in my ears every now and then, those that are sweet, those that are horrific, those that are a work-in-progress. Yet, when I sit to string those words together, they refuse to form a coherent thought. Now, I sit on my bed, wondering what I can do, to open myself up. There was a time when writing was a solace. There was a time when reading was a comfort. There was a time, I could spring up a thought at my whim and go on about it. Currently, though, I see myself as a stranger whose purpose in life seems to be a mystery. Though there are paths unexplored, though there are venues that require attention, I seem to be caught up in a current that has no direction. I wish that things are different, I wish that there is something more I could do, with myself and my life.
DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental. --------------------------------------- “Let me drop you”, he said. “Not if you are the last one left on this earth”, she growled. His pride took a ride, yet the fear for her, overbearing every rationale. The terrorists are loose in the city and the thought of her life in danger, however remote the possibility caused him to swallow his ego and ask of her again, “Please…” “I would rather be within the touching distance of a suicide bomber”, she said. Turning her back to him, she walked away, muttering, “So typical of him to think I require him now, as though I have not survived without him. I do not need him to feel secure in my life. I am happy and perfect and ….” “Are you?”, her conscience questioned. “Yes” “Stop lying to yourself at least”, her conscience countered. “I am not”, she a...
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