Many times in life, things just don't seem to go the way you really want it to. On the contrary, it even goes in the complete opposite direction. I find it hard to grasp that fact at times, how you seem to have the perfect plan in your head, how it will happen, what will happen, what then happens next and how it goes on. But most of the time, it never seems to be the case. How does one then find strength to pull through, pick up oneself and move on? People talk about happy endings, beautiful beginnings. But how then, do we explain the calamity that never fails to befall us? Well if you're confused about what I'm talking about, good. This would get you thinking. Correct me if i'm wrong or if you feel that im over generalising. But it's my strong believe, that many of us are not thinking too much, but in actual fact, are not thinking even at all! We do things with a fear of the end and thus, we find strength hard to muster to consider the endless possibilities, how is it that we can endure even with such little assurance? I can't that's for sure. How then, can I find peace to all this empty suspensions of ill-stability? The lack of sure confidence and blessed assurance? Hmmm...
Is there another way to handle this ill feelings of despair and agony? How can we attempt to spare ourselves the trouble when trouble nonetheless still continues to befall on us?
Lying by the school fitness corner, i wondered to myself. What can I do to impact the people around me? All i came up with were ludicrous and absurd ideas.
I don't know if anyone can relate, but have you ever felt the feeling, of trying to be a good samaritan, but end up being tossed onto the frying pan like a greasy piece of weenie? In times like this, I find it hard to identify with yourself what you used to believe. As time goes by, you slowly lose yourself to the world, not knowing which way you're headed any longer. We see the need, to live day by day without a care or worry of the world, seeking nothing but having to live by another morning, anticipating the good times we're about to enjoy. Is there really more to life then all that? Is there more to the toil, to the sweat and tears, to the bloodshed and to the disappointments? Where is happiness when we're at our lowest, where indeed is our solace when we're seeking peace?
Thoughts by an unusually not disturbed disturbed heart.
Then again the question stands, who are you? Who am I?
7:52 PM endless winter tales of life has ended, for now.
