To Write or Not to Write

This is the ultimate misfortune - writing for the sake of it and not because there really is something to say. Well, let us hope there will be something to say that will unfold by itself in the course of this pointless typing. The weather outside is as stable as can be and all calm and normal. Not at all something that would warrant any action or excitement. But I cant guarantee it won't change because I just made a specific mention of its normalcy. At the same time, there lies here an implication of a hope for something un-ordinary. That is inevitable. What am I ranting? God alone knows. Okay, moving onto less confusing and irritating things now.

I got new glasses! And they look hideous. For one, the lenses are so huge, they could be used by two people at once, besides me. I know. I suck at selections. I never claimed I had a great choice. I cant select anything. Clothes, jewels, colours, glasses. Nothing. Okay that's just one side of the story. The second part now. Whenever I wear them, it's like getting hit in the face. It's like a blow! The power's way too much! The doc said that IS the power. Then why does it seem so much more. Things are clear enough when I wear those glasses. But I end up giving myself a headache whenever I wear them. God..

Tsk tsk..

You feel your throat go dry. You can feel the clasp around it. You can feel the tears ebbing out. You feel your very life evaporating out from your body through... your mouth. And yet you remain seated just as if nothing had ever or ever will happen. How stony a person ARE you? But then, if you've managed to survive the biggest blow of all any heart can ever experience.. These are just thorns aren't they? Long, sharp thorns. You will live. You will see. You will feel. You will die a thousand deaths in your mind's eye. And remain alive at the end of it all. When will this stop hurting? When will the soul be rid of this experience? Why can't we choose to erase things out from our lives without inflicting the society with a malicious psychotic with a sweet day face and a creepy night one? Why can't you just pass out once and for all and finish the damn thing?! Ah, there lies the point. There's no finishing it that ways. You die, you die. You can't finish unfinished arrears that ways. You pay for all you ever did.. Die a miserable life. And then live to finish it with what the world perceives as death. And then? And then, you're liberated. Finito. The story's done child. Now go to bed.