I see a blank page in front of me and it compels me to pen down my thoughts.
But there arises a veil. It whispers a word of caution. A notion of sense into the self that had gone haywire.
As much as tempting this blank page is to pour down my thoughts, it is never going to be private.
But, seeing the same blank page on a word document does not give me the same high as much as the blank page that has the potential to reach the entire world.
I want it out there and not out there at the same time. My thoughts are a paradox.
This waft reminds me of him.
To let go or not to?
You know the answer, yet its not what you want it to be. Desperately not want it to be.
Is there a choice? Can it go on? If so, for how many days? What is to come out of it?
I like the font.
I'm tempted to type 'Regards, Amruta'.
What a life.
Amen to Life. The twists and turns. The ups and downs. The whiteness, blackness and greyness.
Escape or Engulf?
We never really know.
