Thirst unending

Beau said, the day before, that life is not what we tell ourselves. Just to meet the ends we fool our minds. Truer than all the gibber passed through my mind today. I don't understand what is more tragic, fooling or living in the horror of not knowing.

To soothe my nerves, I am reading harry potter again, it is more than just a children's book to me. I feel my mind letting me live in a magical word, every time I read it, I feel more happy.

I want to relive few moments in my life, without fearing that they'd lose their charm. I believe that to feel human is to feel an unending thirst for love. I keep wanting it more and I feel more human. Love, not disguised as care, attention, trust or any other big words, is the only motivation to the living for living.

Jibber Jabber

I leave next Monday for home, for my wedding arrangements and ceremony!

One of my friends says that we are changing and yet we keep wanting people to think about u,s as someone they remember, when they last met us, we prepare ourselves by reminding our minds about all those things from the past to meet these people, and yet we are far from it, frustratingly far.

Today I am trying to remind myself of things that I used to be, what I thought and what others thought of me, latter hasn't changed much but the former is incredibly changed. What I thought wasn't concrete and what am I thinking is still taking shape, so all is just fluid in space-time. Matter is flowing like a non-solid, unrecognizable entity like a half filled bottle with water, two materials co-existing in a container.

Mention of my travel plans in the first line of this writ is my telling you about the time I thought of writing my mixed feelings for this big event but I chose differently. I chose to gather bits of new thoughts today, shaping and completing another kind.

This is just jibber jabber of my present. I like to keep myself posted.

In other news, I have decided to do full time software development now, instead of beating about the bush for automation testing, I am going code wholeheartedly. I received a good suggestion that eventually both my past experience in testing and new learning in development is going to converge, which I think is good. Let's not abandon our past 4 years, we are already out of our time!

- Ciao!

Building Blocks

I am starting to figure out what my problem is, a problem which is stopping me to achieve something that has always been a dear goal. I see the buildings blocks later.

One moment there is a new thought in my head and I instantly think of the ending, yes, hurry is my problem. I am effervescent, fizzy. I don't write to make sense, I write to create the desired ending, a clear result of impatience. I study to become someone with the knowledge. With each step, I need to accomplish something important, something worth mentioning. I don't want to blame anyone for this, but still a part of my bringing up comes to mind. So much protection has spoiled me like this story of a poet in 'Life is Elsewhere'. I am not identifying with the character completely but yes I was to become my parents dream once, a product of their favorite destiny.

Habit of capturing the moment and then destroying it suddenly, is the only reason I wanna linger, linger more in present to relish it before it perishes. I want to build something from the foundation. I understand imagining the end is absolute necessity in order to attain a certain direction, but for me it doesn't favor. I must be, before I am not.

Few days just won't pass, then there is tomorrow too

On some days you feel okay-okay, some days as bright as sunflowers and on others you feel like you are sinking into the slumber. This is just one of these days.

It's hard to listen to your echoing thoughts when you're at the bottom of the sea. You feel your words won't matter, you are screaming but calling no one, you feel nothing is important and mostly, yourself. You don't know what hope means, you are disgusted with your being. Heartrendingly self deprecating you've become and this realization of futility of existence just won't leave you. All world's a stage and you stand there like an immovable subject of perish and mockery. Even the acknowledgement of your presence aches you in the head.

You imagine an end to this, this heaviness of life, like a gardener whose garden of dreams is destroyed by the reality. You're extremely sad.

What have you done? Or was not doing anything, your fault? You wanted to live once, completely and that desire now seems to be fuming away. You are ogling the mirror accidentally put in front of you and see nothing but sordidness. This body is pouring poison. You start learning about the irony of being. You are living and simultaneously you're dying.

Root of it all

I have wondered throughout my life why I feel so shallow when I have a huge thinking capacity, an ability to reason and give witty logic. Why the fuck is my writing seems so incoherent to the reader? Why i don't have answers to all these questions and what the fuck am I not doing?

Today, in a long discussion with beau, I realized something which was long due!

That I don't want to work.
That I don't want to put in any effort.
That I don't want anything at all, I am just a silly dreamer ever since I have been conscious and healthy.

Big fat fucking lie I have been telling myself about passion and intelligence! This isn't an imposter's syndrome (stop giving yourself excuses!), this is right in front of me, root of it all. My confusions, my distractions are countless and this agony like fire, burns me, makes me blind. I am posed as my own enemy now. Only effort and hard work is the solution, some discipline finally! There has been a lot of struggle already to live completely.

Who came first, hen or the eggs, I'd never know. I will let instinct guide me this time and it tells me that I need a direction first and only then the efforts will come in handy. I'll keep practicing hard work side by side.

I need to be sure this time (I am not panicking, I am just waiting). 

Knowing not knowing

I started somewhere between I know and I want to know. I have mostly been like this, hence the enigma or some may perceive as stupidity or even as severe lack of words.
Some days I think I am those perceptions and others I think I don't belong anywhere.
I float above my head and that's how I am accustomed to be.
People had approached me for answers, there were never good questions. What should one ask if one wants to know the right answer? The whole world is a big pile of paradox. To be or not to be, how can both be in the same sentence? Why we have such convenience with language and awkwardness in the absence of it? I just might know.