SELF
Some times I wish I could go, and leave every thing behind. Vanish into thin air; leave no trace and sign, so that no one could ever find me.
I wish I could go somewhere no body knew me, so that I could begin this life of mine all over again.
Some time my dependency to my belongings is so great I do not want to let go. I want every thing to remain just the same.
Some times the passion for life is so strong it takes my breath away, the passion to see and know and live.
Some times I see no point in living at all. Every thing is meaningless, empty, dark and cold.
Some times the world is a hideous place, like an abyss, full of cruelty, dirt and shit.
Some times it is such a beautiful place I do not seem to understand all its beauties and enjoy them enough . . .
Maybe there is nothing wrong with the place, maybe it is me.
World cannot be so strange a place . . . I am the one who is strange.
The problem is always self . . . this selfish self.
